


Sword of the Evening

by Captain_Hazard



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Nothing triggering, Will tag if necessary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:31:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 53,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9076672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Hazard/pseuds/Captain_Hazard
Summary: AU: 300 AC. Ser Jon Beric was raised in Dorne his entire life and his intended wife is as Dornish as they come. His skill and valor in battle have earned him the praise and song of the smallfolk and nobles alike. When his half brother, Robb Stark, is set to be married, Jon's relatively normal life is shattered as he is invited to attend.





	1. Conflict

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so a lot of things are different in this world, namely that Jon is the son of Ashara Dayne and Ned Stark. Other events have diverged after the rebellion, namely that the Iron Born rebellion happened way later, like way later, as in, it only happened the year before this story takes place.
> 
> Also, bastards in this world can rise high in the world in general and can take new names when they gain a Knighthood or Denship (though that last one is rare unlike my other fic). So while they cannot take the name of their fathers house, they can take any name that is related to them. In this case, Jon took the name of his grandfather, Beric Dayne.

**STARFALL**

 

“They can't do this!” Ashara protested. “They cannot take my boy from me!”

“He's been here long enough sister,” Aron Dayne said tiredly. “Lord Eddard wants to see his son and the damn Usurper is coming here to take him with his retinue to the Winter Lands.”

“We do not answer to the Stag!” His sister snarled angrily.

“But we answer to house Martell,” Aron snapped back. “Prince Doran is in agreement with Lord Stark and the false King. Prince Oberyn is coming here to personally make sure that Jon leaves when he is supposed to. He may even join them on the journey.”

“What? Why?!” Ashara said in disbelief. “The Lannisters will surely make up half of the contingent, he hates them more than anyone we know!”

“The Mountain must be with them.”

The answer came not from her brother, but from the doorway. She turned to see her son and his betrothed, Nymeria Sand, standing there and looking grim.

“That is the only reason my father would be going. Gregor Clegane is long over due for his death, my father will seek to rectify that.”

“Well then that's another reason why Jon can't go, Prince Oberyn will end up getting himself killed and him as well.”

“Mother, I'm going,” Jon said firmly. “Whether I like it or not is irrelevant. Whether you like it or not is irrelevant. If Prince Doran says that I must go, then I will go. I am only one person and he will not go to war for me at the expense of the Dornish Kingdom.”

Ashara fumed but kept silent. She couldn't argue with them but she really wanted too.

“Come with us if you wish,” Jon suggested.

Ashara smiled bitterly, “As much as I would like too, your father only asked for you.” She spat out.

She gave her future good daughter a glance. “I suppose Nymeria would be able to join you as your betrothed, and she can keep an eye on her father. If I joined you though, that would be another insult to Lady Stark.”

Ashara did not care for the feelings of Catelyn Tully. As far as she was concerned, she and her father were nothing more than opportunists as she was supposed to marry Brandon and when he died she immediately latched onto Ned.

Her former betrothed had assured her that it was Hoster Tully who demanded that he marry his daughter but Ashara knew that Catelyn was hardly forced to marry a complete stranger. Still, she wouldn't make her sons time there more difficult by going.

“I understand,” Jon nodded solemnly. “Though I don't know what this will achieve. I'll just come back here after the wedding of the Stark heir.”

Ashara felt her heart clench at that. Robb Stark was by all accounts a good young man. Loyal and honorable like his father. But because he didn't really know him, Jon refused to acknowledge him as anything other than the Stark Heir. Out loud at least.

It was wrong of him to think that way, they should have been raised as brothers, She thought sadly.

“Actually, I think I know what your father wants to do,” Lord Aron said quietly. “I think he means to give you some land there and raise you up to a landed knight. One of the few in the North.”

“To what end?” Jon demanded incredulously.

“To make up for lost time, it might also explain why he had his brother bring you a Direwolf when you were a boy.”

Benjen was the only Stark that Jon had really interacted with. While Ashara had hoped that he would know his father better, Benjen had been a welcome presence. He couldn't travel all the time, what with him being tied up as the Lord of his own castle, but he at least came to visit.

“And it would explain why the King is coming here personally to get you. He means to make the offer to you in the hopes of impressing your father. Their relationship has been strained since the end of the war and this offer could potentially make up for that.”

“I won't accept it,” Jon shook his head vigorously. “He wanted nothing to do with me and I will not become one of his vassals.”

“You should take it,” Ashara said before she could stop herself. Her son shot her a hurt look but she soldiered on, “Think about it Jon, you could get to know your father, and you could build your own legacy. “

“You can't do that here. And I know you've been dreaming of the North. You also told me that Ghost wants to see his brothers and sisters again, will you deny him that?”

It was a foul thing, her mentioning her sons dreams of the Winter Lands and his Direwolf. But, this might be her sons only chance to prove to the world that he was more than just the son of a disgraced woman. No matter how much it hurt for her to let him go. For gods sake, she tried to argue for him to stay but if this was true, then letting him go was necessary.

“I would name you the Sword of the Morning or give you High Hermitage, nephew.” Aron added when Jon said nothing. “You may have taken the name Beric when you were knighted, but the blood of House Dayne flows through your veins all the same. Sadly, High Hermitage already has a lord and Dawn has a new wielder. The most I could offer you is a position as a guard here in Starfall.”

“And the problem with that would be?” Jon snapped, obviously displeased with the way this conversation is going.

“You may not be the Sword of the Morning, but your name has swept all across Westeros. Ser Jon the White Wolf, Ser Jon the True, The Sword of the Evening reborn, The Grey Star, so on and so forth. You even have the respect and gratitude of House Tarly, something no other Dornishmen has ever had. You were destined for great things nephew, a simple guard is not one of them.”

Jon made to protest again, but Nymeria placed a hand on his shoulder, “No one here is saying that you need to decide immediately, we don't even know for sure if this will come to pass. Just think on it if it does. Whatever you decide, we will support you.” She glanced at the other two people in the room who nodded their heads.

Jon let out an irritated noise, “I need to be alone.” He stormed out of the room. Ashara made to follow but she stopped when Nymeria spoke.

“Don't worry, he'll be in the training yard,” Nymeria shrugged a shoulder. “Sam and Ghost will watch him. Maybe Grenn and Pyp will join him as well.”

* * *

  
Jon panted as he laid into a practice dummy with a blunted sword in each hand. The weight of the swords were throwing him off and he wished he had the Valyrian blade he took off an Ironborn raider and a normal Long Sword.

“Would you like a sparring volunteer?” His squire's voice called out from behind him.

“No Sam,” He grunted as he twirled the sword in his right hand and swung at the dummy with his left. “I rather be alone right now.” He wasn't really alone, the servants came and went to admire him for his skill. Ghost was laying about in one of the corners, watching for danger. And his mother's cousin, Ser Gerold of High Hermitage, was sulking nearby, waiting to harass Jon when the moment was right.

“If you say so,” Sam murmured and started to depart. Jon wasn't fooled for one second and he was proven right when Sam's footsteps thundered in his direction. He sidestepped and watched as the cudgel his friend favored knocked the practice dummy over from the force of it.

Sam swung at him again and if he hadn't moved back he would have lost a few teeth at the least.

“You're still slow on your backhand,” Jon prodded his squires defenses by swinging at him from both sides. One swing clipped Sam in the left flank, forcing him to retreat. “What did I say about leaving you left side open?”

“You said not to,” Sam replied through gritted teeth.

“Then don't do it again,” Jon swung again but stopped when he heard his rival speak.

“I have to wonder if piggy's lack of skill is do to his weakness, or that of his teachers?”

Sam flushed at the old taunt that used to have more meaning before he set his jaw and glared over Jon's shoulder. He wasn't as fat as he used to be, he had lost weight due to the training that Jon put him through but he was still slightly chunky. His quiet strength and the rage he buried under the surface was enough to help him in a fight.

“You are welcome to come and see just how weak I am, Ser.” Jon barely turned his head in the direction of the other knight who laughed.

“Is that the best you can do,” Ser Gerold said back, moving closer but just staying out of reach. Smart of him, Jon thought. “I can't wait for you to be gone from here. You, your beast, your pig, and your orphans.”

“You make it sound like I am never coming back.” Jon turned to him to look him in the eye.

“If you know what's good for you, you won't.”

“You know what -” Jon started, marching towards the other knight.

“One more step, and I start making bacon!” A voice snarled out from behind him and he turned. Someone had snuck up on Sam and held a knife under his throat. He looked over at Ghost and motioned for him to stay where he was since he had sat up and made to move.

More men poured into the court yard, aiming crossbows at him and Ghost. There were at least five of them. He stabbed the blunted swords into the ground and stepped away from them, holding his hands up.

“Your lackeys have been busy,” Jon remarked snidely. “What do you call them again, your White Comets?”

“Doesn't matter what I call them, what matters is that you listen,” Gerold snapped back. “When you leave here and take your misfits with you, do not come back. You and your kind don't belong here. Why my cousin decided to keep you after what your traitor father did -”

“My father, did what was expected of someone who was wronged by royalty,” Jon shrugged. “He could have easily ignored what happened to Princess Elia and her children, but correct me if I'm wrong, he killed Armory Lorch, who murdered Princess Rhaenys, yes? Of course he didn't get the others involved but if you feel so strongly about it, why do you do something, hmm?”

Gerold's face had turned red during the time Jon spoke not that he cared. He continued,

“What don't you like about me cousin?” Jon asked. “Is it the fact that the smallfolk here like me more than you? The reason for that is that I treat them like human beings, you treat them like property. Are you upset that if it wasn't Edric who became the Sword of The Morning, then I would?”

“It's not some fancy title that is just handed out, you have to earn it. Edric and I actually did good things for our community while you pouted and sulked over the fact that you weren't chosen. Are you upset that my uncle Aron is the Lord of this castle and not you? Do you crave the power of Lord of Starfall and the Torrentine? Keep dreaming cousin, this castle will never be yours and if you somehow gained it, I would kill you before you could sully the name of Dayne.”

“What do you know about being a Dayne?!” Gerold spat. “You don't even have the name, and the name you chose is meaningless since we all know that you are nothing more than a bastard!”

“What in Seven Hells is going on here?!” His uncle shouted at them. He wasn't alone, two of his knights were here as well. Ser Alfred Hunrith and Ser Rowland Selwyn, his bastard brothers stood at his flanks, hands ready to draw their swords. “Gerold, I told you to head home, I've had enough of your foul presence in my house.”

Jon surveyed the area quickly before turning his attention to Gerold. Several house guards were getting ready to pounce on Gerold's men. Pyp and Grenn were nearby with Nymeria, daggers in hand.

“If you can put up with a wolf bastard all these years, you can put up with me.”

“Jon is my nephew, born in this very castle. He belongs here more than you do. Now get the fuck out of my home. You're no longer welcome here.”

Gerold sneered, “Well maybe you shouldn't get to decide anymore.” He drew his sword and all seven hells broke loose.

Jon rushed forward after he looked back at Sam, a guard had come to his aid and he was fine. Jon grabbed the blunted swords he practiced with, dodging crossbow bolts in the process. He twirled them in his hands before striking at Gerold who spun around in time to catch the first swing and dodge the second.

“You'll have to try better than that, bastard.”

Jon and Gerold traded blows as his men died all around them. Gerold's sword left many notches in in his practice blades but that would work to Jon's advantage. And this fight had been a long time coming, he supposed. Gerold had always had a problem with him and was jealous of being born in another branch of the family instead of this one.

He conveniently forgot that Jon wasn't apart of the family either. It was true that while the Dornish had no problems with bastards, they couldn't actually hold a place in the line of succession unless something drastic were to happen. Or if their true born counterparts were looked over completely. That was one thing the Dornish shared with their counterparts across the continent.

A vicious swing cut one of his swords in half, and sparks flew everywhere and distracting Gerold. It was then that Jon went in for the kill. He thrust the sword in his left had upwards, knocking Gerold's sword away. With the ruined sword, he cut Gerold along the throat.

Gerold clutched his throat, eyes wide with fear.

“You should have left when you had the chance,” Jon said softly while Gerold fell to his knees, blood pouring out of his wound. Jon batted away a wild strike lazily and stabbed the attacker without really moving from his spot. There was a the sound of someones head being cut off and he looked over. Edric had arrived and cut down a few men with Dawn. He gave Jon a nod of respect, before looking at the surrounding area.

Jon did too, since the light left Gerold's eyes and he didn't need to look at him anymore. A few scrapes here and there and some bruising seemed to be the most prominent injuries amongst their forces.

“Get inside and remove any more people who worked with Gerold,” His uncle ordered the other guards and knights around them. “Have them sent to the gates with their horses and tell them to ride away from here. If they resist, kill them.”

“You know that I can't stay here now, don't you uncle?” Jon asked after the others dispersed.

“I know,” His uncle said grimly. “Ser Dylan Dayne will not take kindly to his brothers death.”

“Then let us hope that you are right my Lord, and that my father means to give me some land. Because unlike Prince Oberyn, I don't think I can come back after this.”


	2. Journey

As with the rest of his deeds, word had spread across the Seven Kingdoms. Officially, he had put down a rebellion from a young upstart knight of a cadet branch of his mother's family. Details had for the most part remained scarce, but the fact that he used blunted steel to kill someone had leaked out somehow.

And now he was fighting most of the bloody Kingsguard to prove just how 'talented' he was to 'King' Robert. The fat 'King' laughed as he trounced the Knights who were not worth mentioning. To be sure, they could fight and if they had to, kill anyone that they needed dead. But there was no unity between them, by the time they figured out that they should fight him at once, they had been bruised enough and tired enough to be truly effective.

Not that they could beat him if they had thought of it from the beginning. They had underestimated his skill, had looked down on him as bastard who got lucky when he killed the Darkstar of Dorne. And on top of that, Jon had been fighting against multiple opponents all his life. He knew how to to check his surroundings and his dual wielding gave him an edge even if it wasn't the most practical technique outside of tourney melees.

“Now that is what you call skill!” Roared the fat man, standing from his seat and clapping heartily. “Clap you shits!” The other people watching clapped with less enthusiasm as the king and some even out right glared at him. They probably lost money when he wasn't immediately knocked over.

“Gods if only the other knights in the realms had your skill!” Robert continued, marching up to him. Jon tossed the swords down and took a knee in response. “Oh stand up boy! There's no need to kneel!”

“I'd rather not have your men riddle me with cross bow bolts, your majesty.” Jon could not, in good conscience, call this man his king. If his uncle's suspicions were true, and if he was to receive land from his father, Robert Baratheon's laws and truths were what he would have to answer too. But this man had shamefully gained his throne by walking over three innocent bodies. He was not his king and he never would be.

Not that he would say that out loud and he would allow a bit of propriety to keep his head firmly attached to his shoulders.

“Eh?” Robert frowned and looked about the red cloaks that were with them, and their crossbows. “Ah beat it you cunts!” He snapped at them. “And take these fuckers with you.” He gestured to the groaning Kingsguard members. “Selmy and the Kingslayer can look after me. Lord Arryn and my brother too, the four of them are more useful than you lot.”

They did as they were told, muttering threats to Jon under their breath when they passed him. Jon rose, committing each face to memory, he would find out their names later just in case.

“Ser Beric,” Lord Arryn addressed him, using his chosen surname as to potentially avoid confusion. “You are quite the talented swordsman.”

“You honor me with your compliments, my Lord Hand.” Jon replied to his fathers foster father. From what he had been told, Lord Arryn was an honorable man who was basically king as his other foster son was useless. Jon almost pitied him.

“You reminded me of your uncle, Arthur.” Ser Jaime said quietly, giving him a considering look. “He used Dawn, of course, but he was brilliantly gifted with a blade as you have shown to be.”

The first time they had met, Ser Jaime had cynically and mockingly dismissed him because of his bastard status and who his father was. Now, he looked at him with respect, Ser Barristan as well.

“Shame that the Kingsguard is full,” Robert grumbled. “Having you in it could make the damn thing a bit more respectable. Ser Jon Beric of the Kingsguard! It would have been magnificent. But even if you weren't, you're still dead set on marrying the Vipers girl aren't you?”

Don't say a word against her you fat fuck, or I might break your jaw, Jon thought before speaking, “Yes your maj-”

“Bah!” Robert cut him off. “You can hang all the majesty stuff when there isn't a crowd to gawk, call me Robert.”

“That would be improper-”

“I insist.”

“As you say....Robert.” Jon replied uneasily, sharing a grimace with the men behind Robert Baratheon, including his own bastard brother, Ser Orys Ormund, the Lord of Dragonstone, and Master of Ships, sometimes called the Valiant.

“That's better. Now, are you absolutely sure you want to marry the Sand girl? I know that Prince Oberyn squired you but you don't have to marry his spawn to repay him.”

“I am absolutely sure Robert,” He said calmly, trying his best not appear angry or offended by the gall of the drunk in front of him. “I genuinely care for Nymeria – this is not a matter of repayment.”

Robert shrugged, “Suit yourself. When's the wedding?”

“We haven't decided yet but it will not be anytime soon.”

“Of course, we'll be on the road for sometime.”

“And because your namesake is getting married as well,” Lord Arryn reminded him.

“Huh? Oh yes, that too.”

Jon actually felt bad for his half brother in that moment. As much as there were dishonorable men named Jon throughout history, they weren't as bad as the man in front of him. Robb had gotten the short end of the stick as far as he was concerned.

“Ser Beric, I understand that you acquired two Valyrian swords after the fight with the Ironborn.” Lord Arryn addressed him again.

“I did,” Jon replied politely.

“And would you be willing to part with one of them? The crown will match any price you want of course.”

This was a test, he could feel it but he needed to be firm in his answer, “That is a most generous offer, my lord Hand, but I am afraid that I must decline. You see, I plan to keep one of those blades, the other is intended as a gift.”

“For whom, if I may ask?” Lord Arryn seemed more intrigued than insulted at being refused by a bastard, even if it was the bastard of someone he helped raise.

“Robb Stark. I understand that House Stark has a Valyrian sword to their name, but it is reserved for its lord and for executions. I won't critique the smiths of the North but its heir should have the best available. And it would be improper of me to not give something to one half of the married couple while my intended brought something for the other half.”

Jon needed to make a good impression and not bringing a gift for the bride and groom were in poor taste. He would give it to his brother before the wedding ceremony so not to upstage anyone else in attendance. Nymeria would have to do the same for the Rhoynish dagger that she would gift to Alys Karstark, his brother intended.

“If you ever change your mind, come speak with me.” Jon just nodded his head though he had no intention of straying away from the chosen course.

“Leave him be Jon, the boy has made up his mind,” Robert waved away the conversation and clapped Jon on the back. “Gods I wish my brothers were as considerate as you and your father. He's a great man you know.” Ser Orys looked annoyed by what his brother said but shrugged it off when Jon looked at him apologetically. His gesture seemed to suggest that he was sort of used to it by now.

Robert launched into a spiel about how much his father was a good man, as if he hadn't heard it all before. Still, he indulged the man until it was time to go their separate ways.

* * *

  
Prince Oberyn had practically interrogated him after he returned to the Dornish part of the camp. He demanded to know every detail, every word spoken, during his encounter with Robert Baratheon.

“Do you expect me to defect, Prince Oberyn?” He asked bitingly at one point. He was tired and wanted this to be over and done with.

“Considering your traitor blood -” The Prince began belligerently, deep in his cups and his rage boiling over.

“And which blood would that be?” Jon cut him off with a snarl. The others in the room tensed at what he was saying, his betrothed made her way over to calm them both presumably. “The Dayne blood that helped Prince Rhaegar's madness instead of discouraging it or the Stark blood that got justice for their family and partially for yours. Something you never bothered to do.”

Prince Oberyn lunged, hands curled like claws, intending to strangle Jon who caught those hands and restrained the drunken and snarling Prince.

“I have shown my loyalty to you and to Dorne my entire life,” Jon spat, as swords were drawn, from his men and the Princes. “I did not complain when you and your brother used me as a hostage against my parents. I did not complain when you mocked and derided my father and mother even though I wanted to punch your fucking teeth in.”

“I have done nothing to warrant this mistrust and you told me, in front of several witnesses I might add, that I have your complete confidence. Its why you gave your blessing for me and Nym to marry. You also said that I could speak freely with you, since I earned your trust. Do you take that back?!” He demanded shoving Oberyn away.

Oberyn stood there, panting, eyes mad with anger and a little bit of grief, “For the love my daughter bears you, I will let you live, touch me again bastard...” He trailed off warningly.

Jon just nodded his head though the Prince was in the wrong and everyone here knew it, including the ones who would die to defend him.

“Get out!” Oberyn snarled, turning away from him. Jon didn't need to be told twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ser Orys Ormund is basically a stand in for Renly. Stannis is the Lord of Storms End but Robert needed someone to hold Dragonstone for him so he gave it to his bastard brother who has a family of his own. If anyone is interested in seeing his sigil, I'll post it somewhere, maybe in a Appendix if you enough of you are interested.


	3. Horn Hill

Jon did not speak to the Prince as they rode on towards Horn Hill though he did attempt to reach out through his daughter. Nymeria refused to carry messages between them as she, in her own words, was 'not a fucking raven.' Jon was grateful for that.

He had nothing to say to the Prince outside of an apology which he wasn't interested in giving. They all knew that Oberyn only came with them to take a shot at Gregor Clegane, whose path had been diverted to Riverrun before anyone from Kings Landing had come to Starfall. He was sent there to guard Tyrion Lannister, heir to the West and the Master of Coin.

Of course, he claimed that he was here to support his daughter but given all the pouting and raging he was doing, no one he said that too believed him. Not the Dornish and certainly not Robert's camp, the Westerlanders especially.

Jon didn't understand why anyone from the Westerlands would go North to Winterfell. His father made his disdain for their liege very clear and even killed one of his men yet here they all were. True, the Queen was a Lannister, and her children were 'half' Lannister -Jon suspected otherwise by just looking at them- but that didn't explain why they would go North.

And why Lord Tywin Lannister would head there as well.

Jon had a good idea as to why that man was leaving the safety of his home but he shook his head to clear his thoughts before he turned to his squire, “Happy to be home?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Sam said, eyes taking in his family home with unease. “The last time I was here....well, you remember.”

Jon did indeed remember. He had lead a small force of Starfall soldiers to give chase to the Iron Born that retreated from their lands. They had no hope of beating them at sea for they had lacked the numbers at the time, but enough of them had taking to pillaging the Marches.

He had killed a 'knight' from one of the Harlaw Branches during an ambush and gained their Valyrian long sword, Nightfall, for his own having paid the 'Iron Price'.

The purple blade served him well as he cut down any Ironborn that he saw, liberating a few villages that they held in thrall, before he renamed it to Midnight. Grenn and Pyp came into his services around the same time. He had killed a few Greyjoy sons in a village they had burned and where those two lived.

Horn Hill was burning when he came to it last year, and it seemed to be repaired well enough. He had almost run past it since a lot of the damn pirates had took off running but he heard the screaming from inside the castle grounds. They all rushed in, picking off the Iron Born that hadn't left and Jon made his way into the castle proper.

Bodies of servants littered the main hall and he came upon a woman with her children being held hostage. Jon didn't really think, he just acted on instinct, something that earned him a few cuts here and there. It was a blur really, and before he knew it, he had killed almost all of them but the last one had his head smashed in by a rather fat lad who vomited after he killed him.

Jon took the blade Red Rain from one of the men he killed and added it to his collection, which he would gift to Robb when he saw him again.

He ordered his men to help with the relief effort of the castle, earning the gratitude of its lady and her children. Later it earned them the gratitude of Lord Randyll Tarly and his heir, Dickon, and their men as well.

While they did not feast together, they shared some food with the Tarly host and it was there that Lord Randyll asked him to take Sam on as a squire during the war. Jon had not really considered it seriously until Sam had begged him to do so.

“You stay near enough that you aren't interfering with what I'm doing but you're not far enough to wander. You do as I say and when I say it, no questions or protests. Do you understand?”

His words had earned him further approval from the older Tarly men not that he was hoping to gain it.

The fighting culminated and was finalized on Pyke, the main island of the Ironmen. House Greyjoy had been decimated, and they refused to bow in the face of defeat. So the King had them put to the sword, not that anyone mourned them. Jon would have admired them for their conviction if they weren't pirates and rapists.

A bastard from the Riverlands, Ser Tristan Marston, had been given control of the Islands after that along with a wife to bare his children for his courage during the Siege of Pyke. It was a poetic choice in Jon's eyes, given the history between the Rivermen and Iron Born. Ser Tristan's half brother, Lord Tytos Blackwood, was no doubt pleased for his brother, of whom he was said to be fond of. Plus it was more land that they owned instead of house Bracken, who were also in contention for the Islands.

Jon had spoken to his father and half brother briefly on Pyke. His answers to their questions had been short and swift for he did not know how to properly respond to the other half of his family. They left after a few moments with him to avoid Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister as those two had been eager to discuss their rejoining of the realms.

The Northern Kingdom had gone into isolation following the Usurper's War. His uncle had praised his father many times with how he handled the situation and his mother had always had a soft air of pride whenever it was brought up.

The rest of the Kingdoms were a mixed bag to be fair. Some didn't care, others lamented the money and trade they were to getting from the joint Northern and Braavosi alliance. When the North left the Kingdoms, so to did the businesses and deals of Braavos.

A lot of money had been lost when deals and promises soured or disappeared. Many South of the Neck, including some of Jon's countrymen, saw the North as nothing more than a vast wasteland of ice and snow. They stopped thinking that way when they realized that the shared economy had taken a hit with them leaving and then was crippled when Dorne went into isolation as well.

Now too much money was owed to the Reach and Westerlands and even they might start to struggle if they already weren't. His brothers wedding could potentially decide whether or not a war was to happen. Because while Robert was still considered Sovereign of the Seven Kingdoms, if the North and Dorne did not fold back into the group, the others would retaliate.

Jon suddenly became very uncomfortable with that thought.

* * *

  
The King and his family sat at the high table, as they were supposed to. Sam joined his family, as he was supposed too. Jon would have sat with the servants or even some of the men outside, as he was supposed too, but he, his betrothed and her father were honored guests, Jon especially. They sat near the main table, and exchanged nods or smiles, with the Tarly family.

The venison had been caught by Dickon Tarly himself, a fact that had brought cheers from the Tarly men and a laugh from Robert who was a fan of hunting himself. It tasted well enough if a bit gamey but Jon reckoned that he would get used to it as the meal went on.

He put a hand over his goblet and shook his head when one of the servants made to pour more wine, “Water, please. If its not too much trouble.” The cup bearer blinked slightly before nodding her head and leaving to get a pitcher of water.

“Problem with the wine bastard?” The knight opposite him slurred slightly. “Not good enough for you?”

“It dulls the senses, and I have an early appointment tomorrow morning, Ser.”

The man was a Westerlander, of that it was no doubt. The sigil on his cloak marked him as a member of house Crakehall, but Jon wasn't sure if this was Lord Roland or his brother Burton. Either way, he hoped that the non-conversation would be over.

It wasn't to be.

“And what could be so important -hiccup- so important that you would need to attend bastard?”

“That is none of your concern Ser,” Jon had indulged this man in too much as it was. No need to talk to him any more.

“I just made it my concern, bastard,” The knight slurred loudly and stood from his seat to lean over the table. Some of the chatter around them died down and Jon could see the high table stare at them with varied reactions.

“You are a disgrace,” The knight continued spitting a glob of phlegm from his mouth but he missed Jon by a few feet given his drunkenness. Other knights tried to restrain him as he went on.

“Bastards born of whores and traitors have no right baring the title Ser -”

“And you do?” Jon asked calmly, despite the spike of rage he felt. “You sat in the presence of Lord Tarly this evening, you drank his wine and ate his food. Yet you act like a common thug here and now instead of an anointed knight. I could blame the wine, but no one told you to drink as much as you have. I understand that house Crakehall used to be a house worth respecting, if your brother is anything like you, then I pity the Westerlands.”

A mailed fist struck the Crakehall knight in the back of the head then. He slumped forward with a groan but hands caught him and lifted him up before he reached the table.

“Get him out of here,” Ser Orys growled out, his tone leaving no room for argument. As the other Westerlander knights left with their comrade, Ser Orys turned to Jon. “My apologies Ser Jon.” He said with a grimace.

“My thanks Ser Orys, but I am not the one who deserves an apology.” Jon murmured and waved the serving girl forward to fill his goblet. She did so, shaking just a bit at all the attention she was receiving and the near brawl that almost took place in front of her eyes. She had to steady herself as she poured the water for him.

Jon thanked her when she was done, he stood and raised his goblet “My fellow Westerosi, my honor was not besmirched this night, neither was the honor of Ser Crakehall,” Jon wouldn't bother to learn the mans name, not after how he acted.

“The honor in question, was that of House Tarly. They graciously hosted all of us in their ancestral home and lands. The actions of myself and Ser Crakehall were appalling, and I humble myself before them and ask for their forgiveness.”

No one said anything, not even the king who had been drinking heavily himself. The younger members of the Royal family looked concerned, except for the Crown 'Prince' Joffrey, he looked disgusted by Jon's presence. His mother did as well, curling her lip at the sight of him.

Finally, Lord Randyll stood from his seat, “No apology is necessary, Ser Jon.” He said gruffly, as was his nature. “You saved my family from Iron Born rapers and scum. You defend my honor even now when you yourself was wronged this evening. Your valor and honor are things to admire good Ser, and as long as you maintain them to the standard you have now, you will always be welcome in this castle.”

Jon nodded graciously, “You are too kind my lord.” Randyll Tarly may as well have called him a True Knight with the praise he just heaped on Jon. Sure, he had already told Jon that he was welcome at Horn Hill anytime, but he had never said any of the other things and not with a large crowd.

Jon's bastardy would never be over looked, save for Dorne, The East, and by the more open minded individuals in these lands, of which there were few. Randyll Tarly respected him despite his bastardy, not because he was a kind man, but because of what Jon did.

“To Ser Jon Beric, the Sword of the Evening, a man worthy of Knighthood.” Lord Tarly raised his goblet in salute and so did his men. The other knights and attendees did as well, but not as respectfully.

Jon nodded and raised his own in thanks to Lord Tarly, though, the cynical Dornish part of him wondered how much of Randyll Tarly's pride hurt to praise him before he dismissed the thought with a sip from his goblet and took his seat once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's another difference. In this world, Samwell is the second son instead of the first and is younger than Jon by a year and a half. Midnight might seem to be a strange name for a sword but Dusk is being used in another fic of mine and in this fic Jon isn't as presumptive as to name his sword in such a way.
> 
> Yeah I did the Braavos Northern Alliance thing again but I like the idea of the two being linked so sue me.


	4. Promises

After their training, packing, and a renewed promise to Lady Melessa Tarly to make sure Sam stayed out of trouble, they were off towards the Riverlands. They wouldn't head to Riverrun as it would cause nothing more than a scandal since Jon was not presumably welcomed there and Oberyn would fight the Mountain if the chance were to present itself.

“Ser Jon,” Prince Oberyn called to him when they had made their camp.

“My prince?” Jon asked stoically, looking up from arranging his things.

“Walk with me.” Oberyn said as he started to walk away. “Bring Ghost if you like,” He called over his shoulder. He waved off his personal guard and Jon did as well. His Direwolf shuffled silently behind him as they walked away from the piercing gazes around them.

“I am sorry,” Prince Oberyn said after they were well and truly alone. He held up a hand when Jon opened his mouth, “Please, let me finish. I am sorry for the way I acted towards you in my grief and drunkenness, you were right to speak to me as you did.”

Here the prince grabbed the back of his neck and looked down in shame, “Your father will forever have my gratitude for killing that pig Lorch. I even respect his sense of justice and I have no issue with the fact that he rebelled.”

His visage turned dark, “But I will not forget nor forgive the fact that his wild bitch of a sister ran away with my sisters husband. The usurper and his cronies can lie through their teeth and say that Lyanna Stark was kidnapped and raped and killed, but I know better.”

Jon for his part said nothing though he held back a frown. Prince Oberyn sounded very sure about what he was saying but there was no way that he could. Only his father and Howland Reed knew about what happened at the so called Tower of Joy but neither said a thing about it. Jon would allow the Prince to rage now, even if he thought it was strange and unfounded.

Oberyn sighed, “I am truly sorry Jon, and I don't expect you to forgive me but please understand that I do value you as a friend and as a son to be.”

Jon eyed him for a long moment before he looked over at Ghost. The Direwolf was silent as he usually was but he gave the Prince a narrowed eyed gaze and dipped his head in approval. Jon sighed through his nose as he addressed the Prince.

“I understand Prince Oberyn,” He murmured. “And I accept your apology. Though I don't understand why you wanted to have this conversation here in the woods.”

“I made a right arse of myself in front of other people and to make sure that you understood that I was being sincere, I wanted to speak with you alone.”

“I'm guessing since my uncles aren't here then they must be distracted.”

“Ellaria and Nym are keeping Ser Alfred and Ser Rowland company,” Oberyn nodded at him. “I wanted us to speak without interruptions and without false bravado.”

“You, speak with false bravado? Perish the thought.” Jon said dryly, earning a laugh from the Dornish Prince.

“Your uncle Aron would have said the same thing, your mother on the other hand,” Here Oberyn sighed and rubbed his neck again. “She would have followed up on her promise to geld we with a butter knife.”

“And when did she make such a promise?” Jon raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Before we left Starfall with the Usurper,” Oberyn explained. “She gripped my shoulder and held a butter knife near my balls. I thought she had made a mistake and grabbed the wrong knife. But as she threatened me and dug the blade deeper into my balls, I realized that she was being sincere. Especially when she said that the bluntness would make it hurt more.”

Jon winced in sympathy.

“I would have considered her threats normal for a mother who would be parted from her child but the blade used and the verbiage used made me reconsider.”

“I appreciate her concern, but I can take care of myself.”

“She knows that, all parents know that their children will be able to thrive on their own if given the chance. It doesn't stop said parents from being worried about their progeny. You think I don't worry about my girls everyday? Well I do, and when you and Nym have children, you will hopefully understand your mother better.”

Jon just nodded his head at the Prince.

“I'm sure your father loves you too, Jon, but he cannot show it, lest he offend his good family,” Oberyn said calmly and then snorted at the end of his sentence. “Though there isn't much good family left if I remember correctly.”

The Tully's had been nearly decimated on the male side of the main family line after the Greyjoy Rebellion. Sure there were distant cousins but very few bared the name Tully name and the current Lord, Ser Brynden Tully, only had a bastard daughter to lay claim to the ancestral title of Lord of Riverrun and he refused to marry.

In Jon's mind, the King could easily give it to Dame Jayne Blackfish since he had already set the precedent before with giving two bastards a great deal of land, but would the River Lords accept a bastard as their Lady Paramount, when they never had one to begin with?

Jon knew that the answer was no and if the King didn't say something, then families like House Arryn, or even House Stark could protest her appointment, despite her fathers wishes. Which was part of the reason why he didn't want to go to Riverrun, he didn't need to be involved in that political conflict.

“My father made his choices, my prince,” Jon said flatly in response to what Oberyn said. He ignored the pitying look that was sent his way. “I've lived with them my whole life, and I will continue to do so.”

* * *

  
Ned looked over the copies of the deeds he drew up for the Lordship of the Queensgate, and observed the signatures there. They had spelled Jon's chosen name wrong with Baeric instead of Beric, but he had read his foster father's little note that was attached which said that Robert thought that the name was too basic. He said that it needed some dramatic flair.

Ned snorted in contempt, no doubt his old 'friend' had been drinking when this call for flair had been raised. Especially since it made the name look more Valyrian than First Men as it was intended. Jon probably wouldn't be happy but papers were already sent to the Citadel for their records. And if he was able to convince Jon to sign these then that would be that.

He sighed and reclined back into his chair as he thought of his eldest son, the one he failed. If Catelyn found out that Jon was older than Robb, she would throw a fit. For now she behaved well enough, but it was only a matter of time before the peace she was projecting would sour.

To a certain extent, he could understand her fears of usurping bastards since the South was often plagued with them. Robert had given land out like one would do for sweets to children to two of them and that certainly didn't help her mood. Even the North had a bastard rebellion in the Greystark uprising although people forgot the reason for that rebellion was because the King Stark at the time had grievously insulted them and House Bolton and killed their heirs. It had nothing to do with the ambitions of a bastard line.

Then again, people forgot that Orys Baratheon was the bastard half brother of Aegon Targaryen and he supplanted an age old dynasty that went back to the days of the First Men. They forgot that he stole the lands and titles and sigils of house Durrandon when he took Argella Durrandon to wife.

Just like they forgot about all the other houses the damn Andals destroyed when they invaded these lands. The North never forgot however, and they never would. Just like they would never forget the fights that he and Cat had about Jon.

He should have fought harder to have Jon come here sooner, to be raised with his siblings. But whenever he and Cat would have their arguments, it scared the children. Well scared was the wrong word, it upset them to be honest.

Robb always wanted a brother he could play with and Bran and Rickon were to small to do so, Jon would have been perfect. Sansa wanted her parents to be happy so Jon was a figure of disdain for her even though she hadn't met him. The younger ones didn't have much of an opinion at first until they heard of Jon's exploits.

Arya wanted to squire for him as did Bran. Rickon was still a little too young for such a thing but he wanted to hear stories from Jon about all his adventures. Ned would consider either of them if Jon felt up to it. Arya would never have that chance in the South. Bran would but he needed all of his children here to marry Northern children and have Northern children of their own.

Robb's place as his heir was always called into question, not because of Jon, but because he had been born elsewhere and to a family that scoffed at the old traditions despite the fact that they used to follow them. His marriage to Alys Karstark would smooth that over, and Sansa's recent marriage to the Smalljon Umber would show that he was committed to the North and not the South as his father tried to be.

He just needed to find marriage prospects for his other children during the recent wedding to is heir. Or he could at least lie about it to get Robert and Tywin Lannister off of his back. Hearing them out would be the price for letting his son have the Queensgate as his own. He hated that Robert and Jon Arryn had sprung that on him but all he needed to do was listen he didn't need to promise anything, thank the Gods.

The plans he made all those years ago at the end of the Rebellion were almost ready to put into action. He didn't need any more issues. He sat forward again with a sigh and hid the deeds away in a place only he could get too. If Cat found it, well, he didn't want to think about that. Instead he settled into the task of dealing with land disputes, and taxes.

Such fun, he thought dryly. Even as he read about the complaints from the Umbers of Last Hearth about the Tormunds of the Ruddy Keep encroaching on their territory. His thoughts turned to Jon once more and he smiled. When he saw him on Pyke last year it had been a shock since before then he had only held him once as a babe.

He was standoffish to be sure but Ned didn't mind. He and Robb were strangers to the boy, no, young man they met after the battle was done. It had been brief since they needed to get away before Robert and his good father pounced on him.

Jon was coming to the home land of his forefathers, and that thought was enough to make Ned swallow his pride and reach out to Robert within the last year. He wouldn't compromise on the things he said at the end of the Rebellion, and he would make sure that Gregor Clegane and Tywin Lannister paid for what they did, even if it cost him his life.

He just needed to be patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could Ned be planning I wonder? 
> 
> To be clear, Ser Rowland Selwyn and Ser Alfred Hunrith are OC'S but they are tied to Game of Thrones. The show at least, those names were used by the production team to hide the fact that they were hiding Ser Arthur Dayne (Rowland Selwyn) and Ser Gerold Hightower (Alfred Hunrith) from the press and fans. I'll do more background on these versions later on in the story and in an appendix but they are the bastard half brothers of the previous generation of Daynes (Aron, Arthur, Ashara.)


	5. Grief

Jon wondered if the North would be anything like Raventree Hall only colder. Despite being located south of the bogs and swamps of the Neck, Raventree Hall looked nothing like most Southern Castles. It actually reminded him a bit of Starfall, the architecture and feel at least. It screamed home to him which was odd to say the least.

Lord Tytos had been a gracious host so far, giving them salt and bread and claiming them under his protection during their stay in his lands. His sons had been eager to test their mettle against him, and he promised to train with them before supper.

“And here we have our prized Weirwood,” Lord Tytos gestured to the obviously dead tree that was riddled with ravens as they continued on a tour of the castle grounds. “The damn Bracken's poisoned it over a thousand years ago, probably during the first marriage our families had.”

The visitors observed one of the few Weirwoods below the Neck with interest. Sure, the Isle of Faces still had Weirwood trees and there was one in the Capitol but there weren't many left. Starfall had a Godswood with several trees and Jon used to spend more time there than in the Sept despite his knighthood.

“If you don't mind me asking my lord, why do your families intermarry?” Jon asked though he probably shouldn't.

“Been awhile since we last did that Ser but I suppose the main reason is because we were tired.”

“Tired,” Nymeria frowned. “Tired of what?”

“Fighting my lady,” Tytos looked weary as he spoke. Jon was happy that he afforded her some courtesy even though he had no obligation to do so. “Do you think either of us enjoy the feud we have? Its too costly for one thing and heartbreaking for another. The Andals and First Men of old either killed each other or married each other for peace. We tried to do the same, obviously it didn't work.” He admitted wryly and took a pause in thought.

“Its the same for Brynden Tully I imagine,” He admitted after a pause. “I remember drinking with him, years ago, and he said that it would have been better if his family name had died out. Said that they had overreached in their ambition and had sullied their honor. I figured he was just drunk and upset with his brother as he usually was but his recent actions suggests otherwise.”

“In what way?” Oberyn asked him with a curious expression. Jon was curious himself so he listened to the answer.

“His only progeny is a bastard girl who received a Denship and took his nickname as her surname. He also refuses to marry, and believe me, he has had many offers. If what he said is true though and not just some drunken ramble, House Tully may be at an end.”

“But why?” Jon asked this time. “If he wanted his family to be honorable again, he could have done it himself or taught his children to do so.”

“No he couldn't,” Lord Blackwood disagreed. “The taint in which he speaks of may never be repaired at all. If the house should die out like he probably hopes, his daughter could retain the right to own Riverrun and I'll gladly fight for her right if she wishes.”

“Her father is a good man if a bit stubborn and his daughter shouldn't be denied her home. I doubt that she'll be Lady Paramount of the Trident but considering that the Riverlands followed House Justman for nearly three hundred years, who knows.”

He looked up then as a raven took flight and smiled. It was a secret smile, like he knew what the bird was thinking, and maybe he did.

“What was this taint that you spoke of?” Oberyn asked after a moment. “The one that sullied house Tully's honor?”

Lord Tytos wrinkled his nose, “It had to do with the alliances they made during the war before this last one.” He sounded uncomfortable as he said each word. “Lord Hoster was only interested in having three grandsons as Lord Paramount instead of just one and he didn't care about whose toes he stepped on to get it.”

“One was Ser Elbert Arryn, who was the heir to the Eyrie until Lysa Tully had two boys by her husband. He was cheated out of his rights and it wouldn't surprised me if he went the way of Jonos the Kinslayer, especially since Jasper and Robin Arryn are not well liked in the Eyrie or so I'm told.”

“Another was the Northerners themselves. He's not well liked there, I can tell you that much. Greatjon Umber almost took his head off when he suggested that his eldest daughter marry your father Ser Jon. He said that she was intended for Brandon Stark and that his body wasn't yet cold enough for the prospect of another marriage.”

“Your father was not tied to anyone legally so he had no reason not to do so, not when he needed access through the Riverlands more than he needed our numbers,” Lord Tytos looked away from them. “I will admit that many of the River Lords found that to be appalling but they brushed it aside as they had lost kin to what Aerys had done.”

“It was war and they weren't the only ones who lost kin,” Oberyn said bitterly. Lord Tytos looked his way with a narrow eyed gaze.

“Perhaps,” Lord Tytos allowed. “But what were they supposed to do, good prince, pretend that those atrocities didn't happen? Do you forget about what happened at the end of it all?” Oberyn said nothing but he did growl under his breath. Jon gripped Nymeria's hand to stop her from moving.

“I see that you don't and you shouldn't. Nor should you forgive such a thing. But its like you said, we all lost kin in that time, and we should never forget them, but we must also remember that our grief is not greater than another persons.”

“Ser Hubert will continue your tour, and he will show the way to the training yard, Ser Jon.” He added curtly and took his leave. Jon was grateful since he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to continue this conversation.

“Try not to be too harsh in your judgments,” Ser Hubert rumbled after a bout of tense silence. “My Lords Father was burnt alive alongside Rickard Stark all those years ago. He has more right than most to hate the Targaryen's and all who fought for them, but he understands duty and grief better than some would give him credit for.”

Jon wasn't sure if all of this was said as a matter of fact of if Ser Hubert was just trying to defend his liege lord. He didn't give it much thought as Ser Hubert spoke again.

“If you'll follow me, the training yard is this way.”

* * *

  
Sansa frowned at all the activity happening in the Last Hearth. She knew that a lot of the preparations here were for Robb's wedding but why would there need to be soldiers armed to the teeth? She drank the milk the Maester gave her to calm her stomach and the babe within her womb and watched from her window.

“They're me fathers personal guard, Lady Umber,” Ser Harmon Snow answered her unspoken question. She turned to her husbands bastard brother and gave him an indulgent smile.

“Your father needs sixty armed men for his personal guard?” The Greatjon was a beast of a man who could cleave a man in two with his ugly Greatsword, why did he need a personal guard with so many men?

“It is tradition for any Northern lord to take a guard of his own to the wedding of the Northern heir,” He gave her a curious look. “Did your father not teach you this, my lady?”

“My education was overlooked by my Septa,” She replied quietly, trying not to frown as he scowled slightly.

“I see,” He murmured.

“Is that a problem?” She asked calmly.

“It is actually, your education is incomplete,” He replied bluntly and she blinked. “Did your Septa bother to tell you anything about the North?”

“My Maester handled my Northern Lessons but I didn't have many with him, and my Septa told me the rest.” She admitted and he cursed under his breath.

“You might want to speak with my sisters, they'll set you straight on Northern affairs,” He recommended. “It'll help just in case you encounter one of the Free Folk.”

“You mean the Wildlings?” She asked incredulously and her guard pinched the bridge of his nose.

“The Free Folk populate the lands along the Wall, the Gifts, and just on the other side of it,” He explained through gritted teeth. “The Wildlings live further away and are the ones responsible for all the raids that happen here. Let me guess, your Septa didn't bother to tell you the difference?”

Sansa said nothing but something must of shown on her face because he spat out, “Maybe someone should teach her lesson or slap her upside the head, maybe then she'll have some sense.”

Sansa was offended on behalf of Septa Mordane, “She did what she was supposed to do -”

“Maybe if you were to be sent South, I'm sure,” Ser Harmon, said, a little calmer than before. “But you and your siblings were always going to stay here, its tradition every time a Stark marries someone from the South.” He paused and looked her square in the eye, “Do you consider your uncle Benjen to be a Wildling?”

“Of course not,” She answered back. Her uncle was sweet and kind, hardly a savage from beyond the Wall.

“Well most of his Bannerman are made of the Free Folk and they hold the old castles there save for a few. I believe one would be best suited for your brother Ser Jon should he every be given a lordship.”

Sansa's face became blank as she spoke, “He's not my brother, he's nothing more than the son of some slut and my fathers living mistake.” She turned away from Ser Harmon, not intent on speaking further. She turned back when he spoke again.

“Ah I see you've inherited a Southerners disdain for my kind,” Ser Harmon spoke with a smile on his face but with narrowed eyes. “Should I find a suitable replacement for guard duty and leave before I offend your precious sensibilities?”

“You have no right to speak of me in this way,” Sansa snapped coldly.

“Maybe not but you'd best learn to leave your childish thoughts and sensibilities where they belong, you won't survive otherwise.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A promise, southerners don't do so well up here,” Ser Harmon responded harshly. “Your father should have been firmer in your education, it will be up to this house to wash your head clean of all that Southron trash.”

“That's enough, brother,” Her husband said tiredly, having entered their chambers without either of them hearing the door open. “You've said your piece.”

“Find somebody else to watch her,” Ser Harmon snarled. “I'm afraid that I would be too inadequate for the Southern Lady in our presence.” He stomped passed his brother who sighed in irritation. Smalljon closed the door and looked over at her.

“I thought you didn't mind bastards my lady?” He asked her quietly.

“I didn't mind your brother because he was not related to me by blood,” She sniped. “But he'd best stay away for awhile, my Direwolf may not be as restrained as I have been at this point.”

It was a bluff really, Lady could hurt Ser Harmon but Sansa wasn't a fighter, and she never would be. Especially not against someone who was a trained fighter like Ser Harmon.

“My brother isn't wrong, you know.” She almost snorted at his words but refrained. It was expected that he would side with his brother in this instance. “You're a Northerner my lady, act like it.”

“So I'm supposed to pretend that Jon Sand is not an insult against my mother?” She refused to call him by the name he chose or his knighthood. Maybe it was petty but she didn't care, his existence caused her parents nothing but heartache.

“That depends, was he conceived out of spite for that harpy you call a mother?”

Sansa picked up her cup and threw it at him, “Don't you dare say a word against my mother!” She shrieked. Smalljon dodged the cup and it shattered against the wall.

“Your mother is a well to do lady I'm sure,” Her husband almost said the words sarcastically. “But she is trying to make House Stark southern and the day she succeeds will be a sad day indeed. The only reason we even tolerate her is because she is married to your father, believe me, the day she dies is a day that will be celebrated.”

Sansa felt cold at his words, “She is the wife of your Overlord, how can you speak of her in such a manner?”

“I can when I think about the shit your grandfather pulled to have her be a Stark wife. Your uncles body was still fresh when it was decided that your mother was to marry your father. Your mother and her ways are not a match for the North and if you want to survive here, you'd best get with the program.”

“When we go to Winterfell, tell your mother about how horrible I've been to you even though I haven't. Tell her about some atrocity that didn't happen, do what you like but it won't change the fact that we are husband and wife in the eyes of the gods. That only changes when one or both of us die and I don't plan on doing so anytime soon.”

He sighed, “I care about you Sansa, I've known you for a long time and I was happy when you were to be my wife. But you have to grow up and let go of all that nonsense you are clinging onto, its nothing more than poison. And I will not let you infect our child or my family, I won't.”

As he turned to leave her to her thoughts, she called out, “Tell your sisters or whomever you feel suitable that I will take lessons on the North and its history. And tell Ser Harmon that he may resume his duty if he wishes, but don't force him to do so.”

Her husband looked at her and nodded once before taking his leave. I will do my duty, my lord, She thought as tears started to stream down her face and as she rubbed her stomach. That was one thing my mother taught me how to do well and that's something you will learn too, little one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in no way bashing Sansa and that last bit is not meant to be ominous. She will teach her child to follow her husband's laws and rules but without interjecting more than is necessary. She probably will never like her half brother, but she will pull back on what she was taught if only to give herself and her child some peace.
> 
> And Smalljon and his brother are not being mean for the sake of being mean. They are trying to wake her up to the reality that what she thought the world was like is not in anyway like that.


	6. Ambition

Tywin went over his plans in his mind, checking to see if he needed to adjust anything. If Lord Stark refused marriages between his children and his grandchildren, then he would offer some land to one of his Bannerman in return, someone with too many sons perhaps. If that was refused then he would offer money though considering the state of his personal gold mines, he would have to use that one as a last option.

He wasn't afraid to admit that they needed the North and Dorne to help the economy. Dorne wasn't just some bone dry and sun swept desert, their trade agreements with the lower half of the Free Cities brought in much of the wine and silks that were much appreciated at court and throughout the southern parts of the continent. The only way to get them now was to trade directly with those who sold it and at a near extortionate rate as well.

The North had things to trade as well, furs, honeyed mead, ale, black beer, and steel but their crown jewel was their relationship with Braavos. It had been established thousands of years ago, when the Valyrian Freehold was at its peak. The North, or as it was called back then, The Winter Lands, had sent out scouting ships across the sea to get supplies and materials.

When they happened upon a new and relatively small settlement, action was taken. It took sometime for them to come to an agreements as the Wintermen spoke the Old Tongue first and Andalai second and the young Braavosi spoke the language of their slavers. However long it took, an alliance was born that lasted until now, it was only threatened when the Targaryens became Kings.

And now they refuse to acknowledge Robert's reign, He thought with a slight grimace as he drank his water. It had to do with Ned Stark and his precious honor. He was one of the few who allied against the Targaryens to protest what happened to the previous Royal Family. So much so that he killed Amory Lorch in the throne room when Robert refused to do anything and almost injured Gregor Clegane.

He should have been imprisoned or killed then and his wife and son should have been hostages of the Crown. But if anything had happened to Ned Stark, there was another one out there to take his place in an open revolt. As much as he despised the idea, he saw the wisdom in Jon Arryn's decision to let Ned Stark free.

Tywin's forces then were new and fresh but the Northmen were battle tested and hardened and were in greater numbers. They had left some of their mammoths and giants behind but they would have just held the defense of their lands. And they would have won against any invading force with just that alone. If Braavos and the Company of the Winter Rose were to become involved, it may well turn into a slaughter.

Thankfully those forces, while attending the wedding of Robb Stark, would not be at full strength. His men and the men who traveled with them were nervous enough as it was.

Tywin never regretted anything he did at the end of Roberts Rebellion, it brought peace. If Ned Stark was too stupid to realize that then that was his fault. But here and now, Tywin needed to make him understand why it was beneficial for him to pledge himself and Braavos to the rest of them. And if he didn't get it immediately...well Tywin did have a loyal dog at his disposal. Letting him loose might make the point stick all the better.

* * *

  
Fucking Lannisters, Brynden grumbled in his mind. With their fucking blonde hair and their fucking greedy green eyes. He was tired of them and just wanted them gone but he needed to house them to give Ned some more time. Your plan better fucking work Ned, He grumbled again.

“Blackfish,” Robert muttered from his left and he turned. “Jon and I need to talk to you.” For the first time since he had been here, Robert actually looked sober.

“My solar is this way your grace.” He got out of his chair and started to lead them away. “Jayne, you have this under control?” He asked his daughter before they left the main hall.

“Aye father, I do.” She said firmly and cold cocked a rather handsy red cloak when he touched her bottom. “Get him out of here,” She snapped at the Tully guards who were more than happy to oblige their lady.

Brynden lead the king and his hand away from the festivities.

* * *

  
“What is it that you wanted to discuss, your grace?” He asked after they all sat down.

“The succession of Riverrun.”

Brynden kept his face blank, “This is where you tell me that my daughter won't get it.”

“She can still be the lady of the castle,” Jon Arryn interjected. “If she marries whomever the crown assigns as its Lord.”

“Is it to be a Lannister lickspittle then?” Brynden asked sarcastically.

“You have a problem with the Lannisters, my lord?”

“Oh no not at all, I just wonder how much more power you plan on given them considering they own a decent chunk of the continent as it is. Lord Paramount of the Trident and the West seems a bit much.” He was treading on thin ice to be sure but he was getting old, he had very little patience as it was.

“Its not gonna be a Lannister,” Robert growled out. “I agree with you Brynden that they don't need any more power. But your girl cannot hold the Riverlands by herself, she needs someone with the right family name to help her.”

“Which is why I am offering my son Robin as her husband.” Brynden tried very hard to keep his face composed. That spoiled shit for his little girl? Jayne would never accept him. “The Riverlands will remain as such and won't be folded into the Vale, you have my word on that.”

How thoughtful of you, Brynden snarked in his mind.

“And should Jayne refuse the match?”

“Robin would still be the Lord of Riverrun as he is older than Catelyn's other sons who are needed to continue the Stark line.”

You don't care about the Stark line, you just know that Ned will never let his children come South to be a pawn in your games, Brynden thought angrily at the obvious lie his nieces husband just spewed.

“I'll speak with my daughter and give you her answer before you depart for the North.” He already knew what it would be but he needed to maintain the facade.

“You could still marry -”

“No,” He cut off the Kings right hand man. “Jayne is all that I need.” I will not dishonor the woman I loved by taking another to wife. He thought. Not after what Hoster did with Ned Stark. Not after what he did to Mara, Jayne's mother.

Brynden could still see her broken body every time he closed his eyes. He could hear himself roaring in agony when he found her every time he went to sleep.

When Edmure stupidly rushed into battle and got himself killed, he relished in Hoster's pain. The grief his brother felt had nothing to do with losing his son but the fact that he lost his chance to have another part of his legacy live on. Served him right for what he did to Brynden's beloved. When Hoster finally died Brynden had to stop himself from celebrating that fact.

House Tully had survived this long through marriage alliances and that was something Hoster had taken to heart, consequences be damned. Brynden would not help add to the family ambition and if all went as planned, his daughter could keep Riverrun without the need for her to marry the walking embarrassment that was Ser Robin Arryn.

“What name will your son take when he is named as Lord of Riverrun?” Brynden asked to fill the awkward silence.

“Tully of course, there must always be a Tully in Riverrun.” Robert answered this time.

“Of course.” Your plan better work Ned and Elbert better not fuck up on his part. The Blackfish thought while holding back a grimace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of Jon in this chapter but there are games afoot and outside Pov's were required. He should be in the next one along with some more outside Pov's. Hope everyone has a happy new year!
> 
> Oh and before someone says it, cousins marry all the time in this world, so the marriage offer here isn't that far fetched.


	7. Mummery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, Happy New Year! 
> 
> With that out of the way, there is a bit of smut in the second part of Jon's POV (If most smut were called Lemons, this would be a Lime as it isn't that long). If you don't like that sort of thing, then skip over to the other POV.

Jon held his shield tightly as one of the Blackwood boys crashed their shield against his. He pushed them off just as another one swung at his legs. He smacked that blow away and hit the boy in his knee like he tried to do to him.

He yelped and crashed to the ground and his brother tripped over and went face first into Jon's waiting shield. Their younger brother, Lucas, charged from Jon's right as his brother fell. Jon spun on his heel to bring his shield into the path of his practice sword. It was a risky move, one that he wouldn't use against real swords and in a real battle but here it was fine.

Lucas was good at blocking strikes but Jon rolled forward across the ground and struck him in the back of the leg then kicked him down with a blow to the head. Jon scrambled to his feet quickly and surveyed the three who wanted to spar against him once more.

“I think the Maester should be called.” He told Ser Hubert who chuckled at looked at the three Blackwood boys fondly.

“Indeed,” He murmured. “And it seems that I need to improve your training. You're all still too eager to just jump in. Keep in mind that Ser Jon trounced all of the knights on the Kingsguard with nothing but blunted steel.”

Jon hated the fact that his time with the Kingsguard had been spread around. It wasn't a proper fight and those knights weren't worth their Knighthoods.

“But father said that they're shit for the most part,” Brynden Blackwood, the heir to Raventree Hall, protested, his voice warped by the busted nose he sported. “And the only two with skill like Ser Jon more than most, so they didn't spar with him.”

“Just accept the fact that we got our arses served to us on a platter, Bryn.” Konnur Blackwood muttered as he grabbed his knee to sooth the pain. “Yesterday wasn't a fluke.”

“Be thankful that Ser Jon didn't use his Valyrian blade,” Lucas added giving Jon a smile that was laced with pain.

“Fine,” Brynden muttered and gave Jon a begrudging nod of respect. Sure, he was respectful to him as he was a guest but he wasn't taken with the legend that had been built around Jon. A fact that Jon himself found refreshing.

“To the Maester with you,” Ser Hubert ordered and they all groaned. Jon helped them to their feet and they all limped away.

“Can my men train if they want to?” Jon asked the older knight. “I need to bathe before supper.” Supper wasn't for another two hours but Nym had been giving him some looks which meant that she wanted to spend some alone time together. He would bathe before he spent some time with her.

“Of course,” Ser Hubert nodded. “I'll send them along when they're finished.”

Jon nodded his thanks and told his men to behave. Grenn, Pyp, and his uncles smirked at him. Sam nodded obediently and got ready to train. He would stay with them and eat with them in the barracks even though he was welcome at the Blackwoods table since he was high born. However, he preferred familiarity and stayed close to his friends not that Jon or anyone else could begrudge that.

* * *

 

Jon had only just got into the tub of hot water when his chamber door opened. His intended strolled in, took one look at him and barred the door behind her.

“No dagger or stiletto?” She raised an eyebrow at him after she was done. “I could have been some rogue assassin.”

“I know how to hold my own against someone whilst naked and without a weapon. Your father made sure of that.”

Oberyn had taken him to a local bath house and paid some of the patrons to 'attack' Jon early on in his squiring. Jon had been understandably upset after it was done, thinking that Oberyn had tried to have him killed but the explanation had calmed him down somewhat.

“You are the son of a Warden and Lord Paramount, people will try to harm you regardless of the fact that you are a bastard. It doesn't help that you are the nephew of one of the greatest swordsman the world had ever seen. No matter where you go and no matter your intent, people will want to kill you, even in a place like this. Be grateful that you learned this lesson in Dorne and not somewhere else.”

Nymeria snorted, “He put me and my sisters through the same thing. He won't do it to the younger four, Ellaria would feed him his cock and balls if he even considered it.” She eyed the bath tub for a moment.

“So do you want to wait for me to get out or join me?”

“I'd thought you'd never ask,” Nymeria grinned and pulled on one of the straps of her dress.

The top half came undone and she pulled it down slowly and enticingly, revealing her full breasts that she hadn't hidden with a breast wrap. She shimmied the dress down her hips too slowly for Jon's liking and his cock twitched when her dress was below her knees. Her nether lips were glistening and she had trimmed the hair above them into a light patch.

“No small clothes?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “In this weather?”

She smirked and walked towards the small table near him that had the wash cloths and soap he was supposed to use. She picked up one of the cloths and soap and bent over the tub, a hand drifting below the water to lather his lower torso in soap.

“The water will warm me,” She plunged her second hand into the water to grip his cock. Jon jerked at the sudden sensation as she continued speaking.

“And you will do the same when the water gets cold.” She stroked him in a slow but firm grip. On instinct, Jon's right had drifted up her leg until he rubbed at her cunt.

She gave a shudder when he slipped two fingers inside of her and rubbed her pearl with his thumb.

“Y-you'll finger me but fucking is still out of the question,” She demanded with a slight moan as she stroked him with a faster pace.

“I told you already love, our wedding night will be the night I get to fuck you,” Jon increased the motion of his hand slightly in response to Nymeria's ministrations. “I will not change my mind, not even if you bring the Fowler twins to our bed again.”

Nymeria shuddered her release as she thought back to the day in question. Jon removed his fingers and licked them without taking his eyes off of his future wife.

“Get in.”

Outside the door passing servants could hear nothing but water sloshing and laughter. They paid it no mind even as the water seeped under the door.

* * *

 

If Elbert heard the words 'but mother' one more time he would bash his head against a wall.

He watched his uncles brats walk in front of him as he was deemed too low to walk with them and their bitch of a mother. They conveniently forgot that he was older and far more skilled than the two of them. I could cut through them both like cake without much effort he thought bitterly.

As they made their way into the High Hall, several figures stepped into their path. Some came up behind him as well.

“Get out of the way,” Ser Jasper Arryn demanded snobbishly. “Move you idiot you're blocking our path.”

“The heir of the Eyrie gave you a command Ser Stone,” Lysa Tully said to Ser Tim Stone mockingly. “Get out of our way. You too, Ser Corbray.”

Lyn Corbray and his brothers turned to him and Elbert inclined his head slightly. Lyn drew his sword and swung at the 'heir' to the Eyrie. Jasper dodged as he had been trained to do but his mother wasn't so lucky, she had been cut at an angle and the top half was held to the bottom by the tiniest bit of flesh and muscle.

“Mother!” Robin shrieked as her body dropped to the floor. Elbert drew his sword and fought against those nearest him. They weren't in on the whole plan, just like he wanted and thankfully they weren't that skilled though he did let one cut him in the face for the sake of the lies he was about to tell.

Their bodies were littered with crossbow bolts and Elbert sheathed his sword. Jasper Arryn lay dead on the ground even though he had put up a fight by the looks of it. Robin cradled his brothers body and looked around with tears in his eyes. When those eyes looked at Elbert he started to cry even more.

“Cousin, help me,” Robin begged and Elbert just stared at him. “Cousin?” Robin whimpered when Elbert didn't respond and Lyn Corbray stabbed him in the back of the head. The blade ruined one eye but the other one was fine and it still looked at Elbert even though that stare became rather glassy.

“Send the raven to the Blackfish,” Elbert muttered to one of the men. Ser Brynden and Ned Stark would think that he had done as he agreed to do: take his cousins hostage and proclaim himself as lord of the Eyrie. He would muddle the details now with a previously written missive, just a little lie here and there stating that some of the men involved had gotten carried away and that he would get justice for the fallen.

“Ser Lyn, Ser Lucas, Lord Lyonel, I know that it was difficult to persuade you to follow this plan,” A partial lie as only the last two had been difficult to convince. Ser Lyn despised Jasper and Robin, he thought that they were too weak to rule the Eyrie. “But you and the rest of us have taken the step to forging a new era for the Eyrie, one of strength and greatness.”

He stepped towards them and held his hand out to Lyn Corbray, “Your loyalty shall be rewarded in due time.”

Ser Lyn took his hand with a grin, “We're just showing loyalty to our true lord, as is expected of us.”

“Then I am glad to have such loyal men in my service.”

At his words, another bolt was fired, right into Lyn Corbray's throat. As he choked, his brother's were bum rushed and taken to the ground. They were killed as quickly as possible but Lyn was made to suffer.

Elbert wrenched Lady Forlorn from the dying mans hand, “I thank you again for your service, Ser Lyn, here is your reward.” He swung the Valyrian blade, cutting Lyn Corbray's head off and ending the Corbray line.

He turned to the man who fired the bolt, “Ser Orson, for your valor in saving my life, Heart's Home will be yours, the Corbray's have no need of it any more.”

He said the words as if they were fact and Ser Orson nodded his head in thanks.

“Send ravens to the other houses of the Vale, tell them we meet at the Gates of the Moon. Tell them to ride as swiftly as possible.” He looked over the three bodies of his family. “Have the Maester prepare them for the crypts and remember the story we all agreed on. Now go, there is work to be done.”

As they left he knelt down beside the bodies of his cousins to cradle them tenderly and placed one hand on the body of Lysa. He thought of a sad memory from his childhood to help the mummer's tears that gathered in his eyes. By the time the Maester and the others would find him, he would be wailing like a babe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, Ned and the Blackfish do not know about this, as far as they know, Elbert was going to keep them as hostages. Clearly he had other plans.


	8. No More

Jon rode alongside Nym as they left Blackwood lands with an escort of fifty men. They had spent nearly two weeks at Raventree hall and they would have to rush towards Moat Cailin to be at Winterfell before the influx of the Southern parties.

Lord Blackwood had given him a portion of his men to help them wade through Frey lands as that family and their Bannerman were not the kindest of people. Seeing men with Blackwood banners might dissuade them from doing anything.

During their travel Jon still trained Sam as much as he could. They were doing so now during a break and they both stopped when they heard someone call for help. Jon picked up his barbute helmet and put it on. It was the helmet his mother had made for him. It was silver like most of his armor but there was a purple star just above the opening for the eyes.

Sam and grabbed his own helmet, a dark green burgonet with no face plate and the red Tarly huntsman on either side, but he had ran a head of Jon and hadn't put it on just yet.

Jon drew Midnight from its scabbard after he put his Longsword in the other hand and followed. His uncles and his friends saw them take off and made to follow but they were further away.

Jon and Sam came upon a sight that made Sam go red with rage and made Jon grip his swords tighter. There were at least fifteen men in a clearing by the river's edge, some holding women as hostages and laughing while one of them was tearing the clothes off a woman on the ground who screamed.

“Go,” Jon growled to his squire who leapt at the man trying to rape the woman. He roared and smashed his cudgel upside the mans head. The helmet that protected the head of the would be rapist flew off and he fell over, twitching madly before Sam bashed him in the head once more.

Jon came into the eye line of the rest and readied his swords, “Let the women go, and I won't do more than maim you.” He took in their dirty appearance and looked for any sign of of which house they may belong too or if they were peasants. He caught the blue bridge and castles of Frey and the green hags head on white of Nayland.

Fuck, he thought, doing more than maiming them would get them in trouble. Hell maiming them would definitely get them in trouble.

“And who the hell are you cunt?” One of the men holding a woman roughly demanded.

“Ser Jon Beric, the Sword of the Evening,” Jon never liked using his supposed title but he knew that it was well known. Some of the men looked at him with wide eyes including the one who asked the question.

“You're the one who killed all the Iron Born raiders,” Another one with a weasel like face said with a slight look of greed as he eyed Midnight. “And took some of their swords.”

“I did, and if you don't let the women go, my offer of just maiming you is off the table.”

“Give us the sword and they can go,” The same man demanded, holding a hand out to Jon. Jon switched the sword grip on Midnight to a reverse grip and tossed his other sword in front of him.

“Jon -”

“If you want it Ser, then come and get it.” He spoke over Sam who was protecting the girl he saved. Jon gave his squire a look and tilted his head slightly. Sam looked where Jon tilted his head before shifting his stance slightly.

Over the hill behind the men were Jon's uncles and friends. Prince Oberyn had come as well as Nymeria and a handful of knights. Ghost crouched low and stalked behind his targets. As the Frey man walked forward, an arrow whizzed through the air and struck him in the face, right through his left eye.

Shocked, he struggled to stand and there was a cry of. “Aenys!” from the others. Ghost pounced on one of the men who wasn't holding a girl and bit into his leg before he tore it off. Screams rent the air at this, men and women a like and during those screams, more arrows were fired, hitting the men who were holding the hostages.

Several men began to fight back, others began to flee and were picked off by arrows and Prince Oberyn's spear. Jon rushed forward and grabbed the sword he tossed away and engaged several men at once, being mindful of the women who tried to crawl to safety.

He blocked and diverted a strike meant for his side into another man and ran them both through with Midnight. He had to fend of more strikes with his Longsword before he pulled Midnight back. He heard the crack of Nymeria's whip just before it wrapped around the neck of a Nayland man.

He was jerked away into the waiting sword of Jon's uncle Alfred. The numbers had dwindled down and he watched as a man stepped into the clearing to gut some of the fleeing men. The last few were picked off by another man carrying a bow.

Jon killed one of the last remaining men and turned to the women, “Take them somewhere and find out where they live. We'll take them back there after the bodies are taken care of.” Sam and Nym helped the women to the side, Prince Oberyn's men began to go through the bodies for anything valuable or stripped them of their outer clothes so they could be burned.

Jon approached the men who helped them along with his friends, his uncles, and Prince Oberyn who retrieved his spear.

“My thanks for the help Sers,” Jon said after he came to a stop.

“Figured it might be cleaner if we did,” The man with the curved dagger and Longsword said with a cheeky smile as he wiped his blades on the clothes of one of the men he killed.

Jon frowned as his uncle Rowland spoke, “Your friend could have harmed one of the women with his arrows,” He said gruffly, storm blue eyes narrowed in disapproval.

He was the eldest of grandfather Beric's bastards, born from a woman from House Tarth and was in contention for Evenfall Hall if something were to happen to his cousin Selwyn Tarth and his family.

“I don't miss Ser,” The Archer said with an accent that placed his origins to the Marches. “I never have and I never will.”

Jon took in their appearance and noticed the green chain encircled around a green arrow on their light armor. “You two were the ones who burned a lot of the Iron Born fleet when they tried to block access to their islands.”

“My brother did the burning,” The first one spoke. “But I did convince the Little Lion of Lannister to lend me some of the Wildfire caches from Kings Landing for the plan. It wasn't easy, and transporting them in small boats with a long rusted chain was nothing but fuckery let me tell you. I almost got covered in the shit when I opened up the barrels to let them spread in the water.”

“And when he was clear I shot the arrow.” The second spoke again.

“So you must be Ser Bronn,” Jon said to the first earning a nod. “And you must be Ser Anguy.” That got him another nod. “The Green Sunset Knights, I wondered what became of you both after the Ironborn we're dealt with.”

“Well its not as if our fortunes improved with the Knighthoods we got,” Anguy snorted. “We're still too Lowborn for other people's liking and our once lucrative business of selling our skills became tainted.”

“We're fucking Hedge Knights now,” Bronn lamented. “Doing odd jobs here and there. Just finished bringing in a thief to a minor lord back that way,” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “We heard the screaming and came to investigate and here we are.”

“My thanks all the same.” Jon repeated.

“If you two are interested, we have food an wine back at our camp, you're welcome to join us.” Prince Oberyn offered, the two brothers traded looks. Jon himself thought it was the least that they could do but he would keep an eye on them. “You can even replenish and repair your weapons if need be.

That cinched it for them, “I could use some Dornish Red, been a while since I drank it.” Bronn grinned and Anguy rolled his eyes at his brother.

* * *

 

Ned dipped Ice into the pool in front of the Heart Tree before he pulled it and placed it in his lap. With a rag, he gently cleaned the blade. The silence of the Godswood would help him from going insane for a little while. The preparations for Jon's arrival and that of Robert's, was exhausting. Even though they had many servants, Winterfell was a large enough to rival the Red Keep if not larger.

The rooms needed to be kept clean especially the ones that would house the lords of the North and the Queen and her children. The others from the South would have to content themselves in tents and such. This was done since his Lords would be arriving earlier than they and first come first served as far as he was concerned. Plus, he did not wish to house the likes of Tywin Lannister and if any one raised a fuss over it, the compromise would be for the 'Queen' and her children.

For his part of the plan to work, no one else would be able to enter his home. He just hoped that Brynden Tully was able to flood the moat of Riverrun to turn it into an island fortress. He needed to hold that castle, if only for appearances sake since Riverrun was not the most strategically sound castles. But it was the castle of which its Warden lived and if it fell when the fighting started, then whatever power Brynden hoped to have after all was said and done would be lost.

Brynden and his daughter could usher in a new era for the Riverlands when they won just like -

He turned his head when his Direwolf, Winter, shuffled her way over to him and laid down by him. He scratched behind her ear and noticed that his daughter and her wolf were heading his way.

“You should be in your lessons,” He said flatly though he was happy to see her.

“The Septa is an idiot,” Arya huffed, taking a seat not to far from him. Her Direwolf laid at her feet. “She knows nothing about the North! She seems to think that there are only a few Great Houses here when there are at least ten and that the Northern Clans are nothing more than savages!”

“Why do I have to listen to her?” Arya demanded and he sighed. In truth, she didn't need to as she kept to the old Faith and not the new.

“Because that was what your mother wanted,” Ned said simply. “I would have raised more protest to such a thing but my work does keep me busy. And I am only a man, despite what some of my Bannerman say.”

He should have had a more active role in his children's education but the life of an Overlord was not something that could be easily put aside especially with a land so vast and populous as the North.

He had to stop several civil wars from breaking out, deal with successions of several different keeps, and make sure that everyone was fully stocked with food and coin. If the North was not so damn populous, he could spend more time with his children, but all he could do was recommend some books to learn more about the ways of the North.

“Are you going to give Jon the Dreadfort?” Arya asked after a moment and he looked at her sharply.

“What do you know about the Dreadfort,” He asked back while looking around.

“Mother's inside of the Castle, and her ladies don't dare to come here.” Arya told him before huffing out, “I wouldn't speak of such things if she were here father. I know she hates Jon.”

Ned sighed, “She's not fond of your brother but hate is a strong word. She's too Southron is all, that's why I need to have you all marry into the North, even Bran with his dreams of Knighthood.”

Arya's face became pinched when he mentioned marriage, but she didn't comment on it. “What does that have to do with Jon and the Dreadfort?”

“Again, where did you hear about that? Answer me.” He demanded when she didn't speak immediately.

“I heard you speaking with Maester Luwin about the Dreadfort and how it needed a Lord now that Lord Domeric passed away from a sickness.”

Roose Bolton had died saving his life in the Rebellion and Ned promised to look after his sons, true born and bastard, as Roose lay dying. Ramsay Snow had been killed in a brawl between him and one of the Bolton Vassal's a few years back and Domeric had annihilated a house that had been loyal to them for thousands of years in response. Not the finest move on his part but Ned understood that grief made one do things that they normally wouldn't do. It was no excuse for such a thing, but Ned wasn't one to judge too harshly when it came to grief filled decisions.

Domeric's death was no accident in his mind but he could not find the culprit and he had failed his friend.

“I do need to find a lord to take it but it won't be Jon,” Arya started to protest so he kept talking. “I will give Jon some land and a keep to call his own but it won't be the Dreadfort.”

“Then where?”

“Queensgate.”

“But that's so far North!” Arya protested loudly, the sound echoing through the trees. Winter lifted her head up to glare at Arya for disturbing her relative peace. His daughter said in a quieter voice, “Could he take the Dreadfort instead, since its closer to Winterfell?”

“No he can't Arya, I have given our cousin Gaven too much land as it is with Moat Cailin and I need to reduce the amount of land owned by the Bolton's before I can give it to someone else. I cannot raise Jon up to a Noble lord like I did Gaven but Queensgate is good enough and your uncle Benjen will look after Jon as his liege lord.”

Ser Gaven Wynter was his aunt Ara's son. She had left the North for Braavos and joined the Company of the Winter Rose where she had met her husband, Ser Torregg Wynter. Gaven was their second son and easily one of Ned's favorite cousins because he could take and give orders with ease. He knew when to lead and he knew when to submit. Making him Lord of Moat Cailin was for the best as they needed someone who could follow and command at the drop of a hat.

“But Jon's your son, he should be near his family,” Arya spat at him and he sighed.

“I know Arya, your mother and I fought about it enough.”

“You should have fought harder!”

“I fought as hard as I could and when your mother wouldn't yield, I went behind her back and wrote to Jon's mother directly,” Ned admitted quietly to his daughter. “And she didn't want to let him go.”

“But -” Some of the fight and anger left Arya then. “He's our brother.”

Ned placed a hand on her shoulder, “And he's her son. I had returned her family sword to her at the end of the other war but her brother Arthur wasn't allowed to come home or stay in Westeros lest he be killed. She had lost her sister Allyria to a fever and she could never see her brother again. She didn't want to lose Jon as well. I did not speak up for the past eighteen years but no more. I will know him and so will you, whether he wants to stay or not is the question.”

“Well he can't stay in Dorne,”Arya reasoned.

“No he can't but that doesn't mean that he'll want to stay here.”

“I don't see what the big deal is, the bloody Darkstar tried to rebel against his liege, what was Jon supposed to do, let him? And what kind of name is Darkstar anyway? Stars are bright, not dark. He must have been an idiot or something to think that name was fine to use.”

While Ned silently agreed with Arya that Jon had done nothing wrong, he was going to remind her that given enough cause, one could rebel against their Overlord or liege. Before he could, quick footsteps caught his attention and he turned.

“My lord!” Ser Lyam Longstark gasped out. “Come quick, a raven has arrived! Something has happened to Lady Arryn and her children!”

And that would be Elbert's part done then, Ned thought calmly but with some worry as he took in his cousins expression. He hoped that nothing went wrong, the Eyrie needed to be secure when the forces from Essos arrived in Kings Landing.

He nodded at his cousin and sheathed his family sword. He started to run towards his home with the others falling into step with him. Little did he know that one part of his plan had gone awry, and he wouldn't be able to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically the Bolton's don't exist here and weren't half bad to be honest. Ser Arthur is alive but he was forced into exile and gave up his title as Sword of the Morning and Dawn. Hopefully this chapter explains more about why Ned didn't have Jon come sooner.


	9. In the Distance

Jon wasn't nervous as he saw the Twins in the distance. The bodies of those that were killed were thrown down the river naked and their clothes were burnt. From what Jon understood of the Frey's and their more ghastly Bannerman, there were a lot of them so those that were missing probably wouldn't be noticed immediately which was a good thing.

“How are the women?” He asked Nymeria when she rode up beside him.

“As well as they can be,” She replied grimly. She had spent most of her time with the women recently as they would serve as her handmaidens until they were ready to go about their own way.

“Luckily neither were raped but their home was destroyed and their father and brothers were killed.” She gave a slight smile, “The oldest one, Gilly, is quite taken with Sam since he came to her rescue. She's shy and hasn't made her interest known to him.”

“Then why are you telling me?” Jon raised an eyebrow. Did she expect him to play matchmaker? It wasn't one of his strongest skills.

“Because Sam is taken with her as well, I know it. He won't say anything and I doubt that he will act on it given what almost happened.” She shrugged. “He's a good boy and he won't take advantage of her.”

“He's a young man, love, and he hates rapists and would be rapists alike.” That was a hold over from the Iron Born war and what almost happened to his mother and sisters. Not that Jon blamed him really.

“I know that love, but they would make a lovely couple.”

“Lord Randyll would not approve,” He reminded her with an indulgent smile.

“He has an heir who will marry some girl from the Reach,” She countered with a smile of her own. “Sam deserves some happiness. They both do.”

“Nothing may come of it.”

“You two aren't even married yet and you have that gross lovey banter thing down pat.”

“Nothing more sickening than two people in love.”

Jon sighed and looked over his shoulder at his friends, “Remind we why I wanted to bring you two with me again?”

“We couldn't stay behind in Dorne, lest we get killed because of our connection to you. Guilty by association and all that.” Grenn replied with a grin.

“And we're squires for your uncles,” Pyp added with a grin of his own. “Lord Aron told them to watch out for you so we were coming either way.”

“Aren't the both of you too old to be squires?”

“We are, but so is Sam.” Grenn shot back.

“I see Northern Banners up ahead,” Nymeria said before Jon could respond, gaining his attention. He turned to see her looking through a spyglass. “Your uncle Benjen's banner is among them.” She tossed the spyglass to him and he took a look at where she did.

A black Direwolf on White was the more prominent banner. A black lizard lion on green joined it. Crossed bronze daggers encircled by a wreath of blue roses joined them as well.

“House Stark of Castle Black, House Reed of Greywater Watch and House Wynter of Moat Cailin,” He rattled the names off. “There are some other banners as well but those are the ones in the lead. It seems my uncle is sending someone to personally come and greet us.” Or perhaps this is my fathers idea, He thought.

“I'll ride back and tell my father,” Nymeria offered and Jon nodded.

“We'll ride ahead and greet them.” He replied. She guided her horse around and rode quickly to go tell her father of this development. Jon signaled his friends to follow him as he urged his horse forward.

* * *

  
Benjen noticed who rode towards them and smiled.

“Jon!” He called with perhaps too much familiarity but it had been sometime since he had seen his nephew. He walked over as Jon slowed his horse into a trot.

“Uncle!” Jon replied with a smile of his own and dismounted from his horse. They both shared a quick hug.

“You're looking well,” Benjen said after he pulled back.

“So do you, my companions,” Jon gestured to those that rode with him. “That's Grenn and that's Pyp, two of my best friends and squires to my uncles.”

“My lord,” They both said respectfully.

Benjen nodded at them, “Its nice to put faces to the names.” He said. “I'm here to escort you and your party through the Neck. These men are here to help.” He gestured to his cousin. “This is Ser Gaven Wynter, our cousin and the the Lord of Moat Cailin.”

“Ser Jon,” Gaven said respectfully. “It is an honor to meet you.” He nodded respectfully at the other two.

“My lord.” All three chorused in unison.

“And this is Lord Howland Reed, the Defender of the Neck.”

“Ser Jon,” Howland said quietly, his green eyes staring unblinkingly at Jon. “I haven't seen you since you were a babe in arms.”

“Well met my lord,” Jon said cordially but Benjen noticed a bit of wariness in his blue grey eyes. “I thank you all for assisting us in our journey.”

“It is an honor,” Ser Gaven said honestly. “And your lord father wishes to see you in the North before the others get here for the Wedding.”

“He wants to see you before the madness begins with the arrival of Robert and his court.” Benjen explained, hiding a grimace. He hadn't hated Robert when he first met him but he could see that he was wrong for his sister. Lyanna did not tolerate his whoring and drinking and made it plain for all to see and Benjen agreed despite the relationship he had with Ned.

The ones who didn't had been the ones she depended on the most, their father and oldest brother, who basically ignored what she wanted even though they both had indulged her in many things. They had pushed her to far and she ran.

Benjen knew that his sister wouldn't have been taken without a struggle, the only way that would happen is if they had drugged her but when she woke up she would have raised all kinds of hell. No, she had chosen her path willingly and many paid for it. He should hate her, he should hate those involved, but when push came to shove, Lyanna had pushed back harder in response.

And he knew the other reason why Ned wanted his son to be there early but he would keep the surprise as it was intended.

“I was hoping to arrive sooner,” Jon admitted to him. “My betrothed and I have gifts we want to give before the wedding. We wouldn't want to upstage anyone,” He said, joking slightly.

“You might anyway, but most Northerners won't wallow in the insult like a lot of the Southern Lords,” Benjen told him with a shrug. “Would you like to head towards the Moat now or would you like to wait for the rest of your party?”

“I would like to wait,” Jon replied.

Benjen nodded and went to stand by his horse. “You're going to love it in the Winter Lands Jon, just you wait.” His nephew gave him a patient and indulgent smile but as his eyes drifted North, the smile became a little wistful.

* * *

  
The Capital was in sight and he felt his heart clench as he took it in. Eighteen years he hadn't been here and he felt all of them in one instance.

“The place still smells like shit I bet,” His former sworn brother grumbled.

“Probably,” Ser Arthur said to him. “But its a port city filled with half a million people who shit in the same place, what did you expect?”

“Can the Spider really be trusted?” Ser Oswell asked after a moment whilst looking around as if he expected to get knifed at any moment.

“He hasn't told anyone that you and I are still alive,” Ser Gerold reminded him. “He also hasn't informed anyone of the Queen mother and his grace King Jaehaerys.”

“Neither has Lord Stark and need I remind you that it was his idea to do it this way.” Lord Stark had concocted some story about how Ser Oswell had been bitten by a snake and had died from its venom. Ser Gerold was said to have died from heatstroke and Arthur surrendered when he saw that he was outnumbered.

Lord Stark made his men detain him and when the truth came out after he and Howland Reed had ventured into the Tower of Joy, he swore them to secrecy. Including Ser Tygett Lannister who had joined them after what his brother had done in the hopes of regaining some honor for house Lannister. He had been banished from the Westerlands since he defied his Overlords commands and he too faked his death so he could move more freely without his brother looking into it.

“That's what makes me concerned, the man is a known traitor.”

“Are you honestly going to pretend that Ned Stark is the only one who betrayed the Mad King? We did as well when we sided with Rhaegar.”

“He needed an heir and Lady Lyanna was willing to give him one,” Oswell snapped back. It had been unfortunate but not unexpected when Elia could no longer conceive after Rhaenys. Even with staying at Dragonstone during her faked pregnancy, nothing came from any coupling she had with Rhaegar even though they both tried anything and everything. In the end, they had to adopt an orphaned child and given how much Valyrian blood there was on Dragonstone, the babes appearance was most welcome.

“And the Mad King committed atrocities in the last two years of his reign, some of which affected Lord Eddard personally. You don't need to defend Aerys anymore, we're no longer part of the Sworn Brotherhood. We don't need to lie to ourselves any more.”

That had been a conflicting fact for Arthur. He was free of ever having to serve in the old order but it was something he had wanted to do since boyhood. It wasn't easy to let go and the kings decision to disband the Kingsguard was something that would not be taken well after they won.

“Enough,” Ser Gerold said before a bigger argument could break out. “Let us revel in the fact that we are home my brothers. There is work to be done and we must secure the Capital while the King and his bride to be head to the Winter Kingdom to deal with the Usurper directly.”

“Indeed,” The voice of the Queen Mother said coldly from behind them. “I wonder how fat Robert has gotten over the years. Last I heard he was bigger than any of the Manderly's.”

Arthur turned to meet the cold grey eyes of Queen Lyanna Targaryen, “Considering how large they get, your grace, I don't think the Usurper can match that.”

“We'll have to wait for Jay's report to be sure,” She murmured, using the nickname she had given her son when he was a child. “I just wish Daenerys had gone with Viserys to offer air support over Dragonstone.”

“Prince Viserys is a fine warrior and his time amongst the Second Sons has molded him into a good battle commander,” Ser Oswell offered.

“Its not his skills I question, it is his restraint.” Lyanna retorted. “He has no love for anyone who shares blood with Robert and there is a family there that does.”

“You're afraid that he might put the Ormund's to the sword.” Arthur said grimly. That thought had crossed his mind as well.

“If no one can convince him otherwise, he will do so, I just know it. And mys son will have to execute his uncle for disobeying a direct order. Kinslaying would be a hell of a way to start his reign.” She sighed and looked to the city. “We'll deal with that when the time comes, for now we take the city.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More explanations will come as time goes on but basically the three Knights at the Tower are all alive though two had to fake their deaths lest suspicions arise along with another. 
> 
> Oh and certain people know that Lyanna is alive but not Benjen. Trust me, he will be right pissed that this was kept from him. And let me just say this now, unlike show canon (and probably book canon too) Jon is not Lyanna's son in this story. She has her own child and Jon is truly Ned's son by Ashara.


	10. History

Jon was glad that Robert's party was held up in the Neck. Apparently something had happened in the Eyrie that required the Hand's attention so he had left and the Queen's wheelhouse had broken several axles along the way which also slowed them down.

“We can stay at Castle Cerwyn, Lord Medger would house us with no problem.” Benjen suggested as they rode on and pointed towards the castle in their view.

“So this is the home of the Axe of Winterfell,” Oberyn commented, trying hard to hide a shiver as the cold bit into the skin he didn't cover. He had been to cold places during his travels and in winter time as well but this was ridiculous.

“Aye,” Benjen said, smirking a little at the Prince. “House Cerwyn was established over three thousand years ago. The castle was already built and it was intended for a third son of house Stark.”

“Why didn't it go to a son of house Stark?” Jon asked curiously. His lessons about the North were limited, mainly because Maester Jargar had very little books about them. Whatever knowledge he did know about this Kingdom was very basic at best.

“His older sons died at the time, we Northerners call it the time of the Flayed Wolf Alliance.” Benjen replied and got confused looks in return and he rolled his eyes. “You probably know it as the Greystark Rebellion.” He spat out with disgust.

“The Stark bastard rebellion?” Nymeria asked this time, sounding just as confused as she looked. “Why do you call it otherwise?”

“Because it is otherwise my lady. That rebellion was not born out of a bastards ambition but out of the grief of two separate families,” Benjen looked slightly ashamed. “House Stark has always prided itself on being just and fair. We weren’t always the Kings of Winter, we used to be vassal's of the Barrow Kings until they failed to honor their oaths and we rebelled in response.”

“Despite our pride and honor, occasionally, we do get some questionable members here and there, like all families do. The one in question was King Elric Stark VIII, known as Elric the Last as he was the last person to ever bear that name in the Stark line or any Northern line for that matter. He was a bit like Robert only less prone to drinking but just as divisive.”

“He put enough bastards in the bellies of many a young girl, several houses in the North share blood with house Stark because they married those bastards. Unfortunately, two of the girls he did this too were daughters of houses Greystark and Bolton. The respective heirs and lords of those houses were furious and demanded reparations, as was their right.”

“Elric had the heirs killed and imprisoned the lords after making them watch their sons die. In the chaos that followed, Elric lost two of his sons before dying himself, the Greystarks were destroyed root and stem and the Boltons only had a young girl to lead them when all was said and done.”

“What does that have to do with House Cerwyn?” Jon asked quietly when his uncle stopped speaking.

“Their ancestor, Cerwyn, who was a low born guard of Winterfell, helped protect the last remaining Stark children when Balthazar Bolton and Yoren Greystark were freed by men loyal to their family. They made their way to where the rest of the Stark children remained and were met with resistance from the household guards, though only two survived the onslaught.”

“Cerwyn and another Stark named Karlon, a cousin who was also rewarded for his services, saved the last three Stark children using nothing more than a battle axe and a shield between them. Both of them were wounded but they healed in time and Barron Stark, Karlon's father and acting regent for his nephew King Harrion, gave the then unnamed castle to Cerwyn and gave the Grey Castle of Greystark to his son.”

“Cerwyn named the castle after himself since he was a simple man who never aspired to be a lord and took the black battle axe as his sigil as the smallfolk called him the Axe of Winterfell. Karlon renamed his castle to the Karhold and took a white sunburst as his sigil since that was on the shield he used.”

“The Sun of Winter,” Jon murmured out loud. “I had wondered where their house words came from.”

“Well wonder no more,” Benjen smiled.

“That Bolton girl,” Oberyn began. “How did she retain her family name? Did she marry one of her cousins from a cadet branch?”

“No, she married one of Elric's bastards when they were old enough to do so. The other bastards were married off and their mothers were looked after. It actually helped strengthen relations with House Bolton oddly enough and in time our rivalry became more like one of a good family ribbing.” Benjen's eyes turned sad. “They were some of our most loyal and devout Bannerman, now they're gone.”

A respectful silence followed his words.

“We can stay with the Cerwyns.” Jon said after a moment. “And we can leave before sunrise tomorrow to get to Winterfell in the afternoon.”

A few people agreed with the plan, but the Prince and his paramour protested the idea of waking up at such a time.

“Maybe we should wake up at dawn, my love,” Nymeria murmured to him with a mischievous look in her eyes. “After all, older people do need their rest more than others.”

“Indeed,” Jon said with a laugh as Ellaria and Oberyn glared.

“I can still put you on your arse boy,” Oberyn growled out but his eyes said that he was amused .

“And I could still have you over my knee, Nymeria.” Ellaria said sternly, jabbing a finger at her stepdaughter in mock anger.

“You'd have to catch me first.” With that she flickered her reins and sped off with Jon right behind her, their laughter roaring into the ears of their companions.

* * *

  
Viserys could see his families ancestral seat in the distance. His blood boiled at the thought of who now controlled it. Stags and their bastards had no right in ruling a land fit for dragons.

Speaking of.

He snarled as he thought of how his sister and nephew refused to lend him one of theirs for this assault. They claimed that he needed to show strength on his own and that the Dragons were needed for something more important.

They wouldn't say what, and his bitch of a sister in law refused to to tell him as well. He could take a guess and say that they were headed to frozen waste land of the North but that should have been his campaign to lead. Not this one though he would follow his Kings command, if only to honor the promise he made to his mother.

“Jaehaerys is king little dragon,” His mother told him when he was but a boy and as she grew sicker with each day. “You must help him gain his birthright and punish those that would deny it to him. It is your duty as his uncle. Can you do that, my little dragon? Can you promise mummy that you will serve your nephew faithfully?”

“I promise.”

He never forgot his solemn oath, even though there were moments that he felt that he would have been a better king. He kept to his vows, even though the only mark of any Targaryen heritage in his nephew was some of his angular features and the pale white hair. The shape of his eyes reminded Viserys of Rhaegar, but the color and spirit were that of the damn Starks.

The only thing that made him damn near kill Jaehaerys was when he caught him and Dany in bed together. He nearly run his nephew through there and then, but Dany had gotten in the way, proclaiming her love for Jaehaerys.

Dany should have been mine, He thought angrily before he dismissed the thought. He wouldn't fight over her, not when she didn't love him like that. And he wouldn't wage a war for her, he wasn't the Usurper who lusted after some dumb wolf slut.

The banner of the Second Sons flapped in the wind and he looked towards it as he felt the wind change. Hopefully it was a good change and hopefully the others succeed. He thought as he set his shoulders and barked orders for his men to get ready. He snapped at those who were messing about, for they needed to be ready for any and all resistance.

Failure was not an option, not when he had so much to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this may seem as filler but I am trying to build a strong foundation for the AU so please bear with me. You'll notice that I changed the history of house Karstark and gave a history that was similar to one I used before to house Cerwyn. And like I said, this house Bolton was different from canon.
> 
> Next chapter should feature Jon going to Winterfell but we'll see. I may have other ideas.


	11. Claws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of smut and dirty talk in the first POV but there is some important stuff there as well. No Jon and CO. in this chapter, they'll be in the next one.

Jaehaerys groaned as he spilled his seed into his lover for the fourth time that night. He panted from the effort of it all and pulled his cock free from her arse. Daenerys groaned in response, and she curled on her side and heaved for breath.

“If we fucked any harder, the ship might have capsized.” She japed between breaths and Jaehaerys chuckled. “As it is, I wouldn't be able to walk properly even if the ship was anchored at port.”

“That is the desired effect, love.” He gave her right arse cheek a light pat and she yelped slightly before turning to glare at him over her shoulder.

“If I had a mummers cock,” She began threateningly.

“You'd shove it in your cunt or have one of your hand maidens wear it to fuck you while I took the other hole.” Jaehaerys smirked at her and she flushed but not in embarrassment. “You came the hardest when I was in your arse and Missendei was in your cunt. You passed out if I recall correctly.”

He chuckled as she flushed again but when she spoke, his smile slipped.

“We might not be able to keep doing this when you get married.”

Jaehaerys rolled his eyes in annoyance and moved to get something to drink, “Last time I checked, I was going to marry you.”

“You know that can't happen, not when I-”

“Don't say it,” He hissed without looking at her and taking a gulp of his wine. “Don't you dare.”

“Jay,” She said softly. “Look at me.”

He closed his eyes at his given nickname in pain before he opened them again. He turned to look at her over his shoulder. Gray eyes glared at sympathetic purple ones.

“I am infertile,” She said the words calmly and honestly. She sat on the bed in their cabin lazily but her face was that of a statue. “We've tried for as long as we have been intimate and I haven't conceived, not once. You know it to be true.”

“You don't know that,” He snapped out. “All those healers you went to could have been nothing more than fools and liars.” Some of them were legitimate healers and scholars of the body but people like them could get things wrong. No one was infallible.

“And what about the two bastards you sired on Missendei?” Dany remained calm as always, as if she was talking about the weather. “Or are you going to pretend that Vhaegon and Meraxah are not yours?” Her tone suggested that if he did so then he was a fool. And he couldn't deny that those two were his children. Despite them taking Missendei's bronze skin, they had the Targaryen hair and his gray eyes.

And she might be with child again, with a little Balerion or Baleria this time, He thought.

“We can keep trying Dany,” Jaehaerys came over to her and knelt before her in between her legs. “I know we can have a child together.”

“I can't give you a child of my body Jaehaerys but we brought three powerful children in to the world together,” She replied while taking his face in her small hands. “Our dragons will be the legacy that you and I share but you must reforge the legacy of our ancestors, and to do that you need a wife that can bear your children.”

Jaehaerys bared his teeth, “And which slut shall be my broodmare then?” He snarled and stood up to pace. “The daughter of the fat flower, or the Dornish Princess who has no reason to marry me?”

“The Reach has been loyal to us since the Conquest,” Dany pointed out. “And to gain Dorne's allegiance through marriage could be hailed as a good strategic move on your part as it was with Baelor and Daeron II. Both options are not without their appeal.”

“Mace Tyrell failed in his oath keeping when he decided to not press the advantage given to him by Lord Randyll Tarly. He dipped his banners quick enough when my uncle came to break his fucking siege of Storms End. Honestly, who gave him that brilliant idea? The castle never fell to anyone even in the days of the Durrandon's!”

“And Dorne? Ha! They'll never accept me! My brother was supposed to be king, do you think they will settle for me? Even if my uncles plan works and even if Prince Doran is in on it, his daughter could easily deny me as her King and declare their country independent! Our dragons wouldn't be enough to make them submit since they know how to kill dragons with very little losses for them!”

“Which is why you should marry her,” Daenerys remained calm even as her beloved pulled at his hair in frustration.

“Dany,” His voice was almost a desperate plea as he looked at her. “Don't ask me to just give up on you.”

“We have sometime before we must part, my love.” Dany stood and walked over to give him a hug. Her head snuggled into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. “And even when we do -”

“We won't.”

“My heart is yours, my soul is yours, I am yours.” She vowed and leaned back to look up at him. “Forever. But our family legacy must come first Jaehaerys, or all of this would have been for nothing.”

Jaehaerys kissed her then and she sighed, knowing that he was going to be stubborn. For his part, Jaehaerys thought of a way to make her his wife still for he would not have her as his mistress nor would he live without her.

* * *

  
The Rock was in their view. A man flicked the reins of his horse to make it move faster. His companions followed suit.

“We're home brother,” The man whispered to the another on the other horse. “After all these years, we are finally home.”

“Shut up you idiot, you will spoil our mission for the king.” The other man snarled.

The first man rode silently and tried to contain his excitement but barely managed it. He was home and his little girl, his eldest child, was within the castle grounds. For him, it was a bonus of taking on this mission.

“Halt!” One of the guards on the ramparts shouted out. The horses slowed to a halt in response. “State your business!”

The man threw back his hood, revealing sharp green eyes and long blonde hair, “I am Ser Gerion Lannister, returned from the Ruins of Valyria! I would see Lord Tywin and let him know that his brother has returned.” He already knew that Tywin wasn't here but they didn't need to know that.

The guards looked at one another before one left to go run into the castle. The others turned back and aimed their crossbows at them as they waited. After sometime, the guard that left came back and the brother he knew to be here came out and stared.

Gerion stared in fake surprise but it turned to real surprise when he saw that a young woman had joined his brother.

“Joy,” He called out and tried to hold back tears as his first born child looked back at him with tears in her eyes.

“Father,” She replied in a choked voice.

“It really is you,” Kevan said next, looking at Gerion as If he had seen a ghost.

“I suppose Tywin couldn't be bothered to see me then,” Gerion called out to his older brother. “I can wait in Lannisport to speak with him or in the Kennels -”

“Tywin isn't here,” Kevan interrupted and Gerion faked his surprise once more. “But you and your companions may enter at my word.” He gave the guards a signal and the Weirwood doors opened after a cry of 'Open the gates!'

Gerion was tempted to put up the predictable protest but with his daughter right there, he couldn't bring himself to do so. “Thank you Kevan, we have a lot of catching up to do.”

Oh you sweet, sweet fool, He thought as his brother smiled. You have no idea of the folly you just committed by letting us in.

* * *

 

The battle was long and hard and Viserys was out of breath. He sat on the old driftwood throne of his ancestors and sighed in relief that their plan worked. Sure, they lost some men but that was expected in war. Thankfully, any ravens that could have called for help or warned the mainland of their arrival was shot down by those that were loyal to his house.

The Usurper's men were put to the sword, he even killed a few himself and with relish. He put his head back against the throne and took a deep breath.

“Home,” He murmured quietly to himself, closing his eyes as he let the memories of this place enter his mind. Footsteps from the side gained his attention.

“Daario, my friend,” He called out to the blue haired Tyroshi amongst the five men that entered the room. “Report.”

“We only lost about a fraction of our men and everyone who didn't bend is doing so now or they were killed just like you asked.” His friend and second in command replied. “The lords loyal to House Targaryen have prepared for the defense of their homes and for any potential assaults.”

“Good," Viserys nodded, pleased at the turn out. “And the bastard's family?”

A strange look crossed Daario's face before it cleared, “The mother and the children are in their rooms under heavy guard.”

“Bring them here,” Viserys demanded, a gleam in his eyes. “I wish to see them.”

None of them moved to obey him.

“Did you not hear what I said?” Viserys snapped, rising to his feet. “Bring the bitch and her spawn to me.”

“I heard you the first time old friend but I cannot do that,” Daario replied before nodding at something behind Viserys who gasped as he felt something plunge into his back. “The Queen Mother told us to protect the Ormund's by any means necessary, even from you.”  
  
Viserys felt another blade enter from his side and the men in front of him walked over, daggers in hand. They stabbed him, one after the other even as he held his hands up in surrender and tried to beg them to stop.

“This isn't personal my friend, but the Queen gave us coin and promised us land and wives if we did this,” Daario stood in front of him when the last one finished with his stiletto in a reverse grip. “And as much as I like you, I fancy those things just a bit more.” He raised the stiletto over his head.

“Goodbye old friend.”

Throughout his last stab, Viserys reached for his small knife and waited as his vision blurred. He swung the blade upwards between Daario's legs and twisted it when it made contact. He still felt the stiletto enter his head but he saw his old, traitorous friend howl in agony before the darkness claimed him for the last time.

 


	12. Presents

Jon was mesmerized by the sheer size of Winterfell. It was definitely bigger than both Sunspear and Starfall combined, more sturdy looking as well. The stones had aged in the thousands of years that this castle stood but there was no weak point that he could see though he was at a decent distance away from it.

“I give you  Winterfell,” His uncle said giving Jon and his companions a smile. “The heart of the North.”

“Its beautiful,” Nym murmured from his side. Jon agreed and the sense of longing that he had in his heart melted at the sight of his forefathers ancestral seat. His eyes flickered to where a bunch horses headed their way.

“That would be Ned and and Robb out front.” His uncle said.

“Most Lords wouldn't come all this way to greet visitors,” Oberyn noted.

“Well its not every day that we get a famed knight who is worthy of his title and fame,” Benjen replied, giving Jon a wink. “I suppose a Prince is special as well, even if it is just a Dornish one.” He japed at Oberyn with a sideways glance.

“I suppose I should be offended but considering that you are just above street rabble in intelligence, I can forgive this one infraction.”

Jon rolled his eyes at the banter involved. If he hadn't known any better, he would have sworn that they were twins who were separated at birth. Thankfully that wasn't the case, he doubted that the North and Dorne could survive the fallout of such a scandal and the shenanigans that the two of them would get up to.

They rode forward to meet his father halfway and Jon felt tense as he was now eye to eye with his father once more.

“Lord Stark,” He said with a slight bow of his head. Oberyn should have been the one to address him and should have been the one to be addressed but Jon didn't think it was a bad thing for him to have spoken first.

Neither did his father if the soft smile he gave him was anything to go by, “Ser Jon,” He said warmly. “You and your traveling companions will be given guest right and be brought under my protection. I must warn you though, that there will be a lot of people in the castle and that you may bump into them constantly.”

“And while all of you will have my protection now, it will be rescinded if you cause any trouble,” His eyes drifted towards Prince Oberyn who looked mildly offended.

“My good man-”

“I know of your reputation good prince,” His father said sternly. “And I have received various missives from the Bannerman who housed you and several of their servants are now with child.”

“How do you know -” Oberyn received a slap from Ellaria then. He gave her a betrayed look which she just raised an eyebrow at.

“Don't even bother to deny it, my love,” She purred before turning to lord Stark. “If the girls are in need of compensation, Prince Doran will provide the means for it if you ask him, Lord Stark.”

“I'm sure that the girls in question would appreciate that, my lady.”

“Oh, I'm not a lady Lord Stark,” Ellaria countered. “You need not play pleasantries with me.”

Now Jon knew that Ellaria didn't care one way or the other in how people addressed her. His father didn't know that so this must have been a test of some sort.

“Anyone who could reign in a Prince of Dorne especially one as hot headed as your lover deserves many accolades. However, if being called a lady makes you uncomfortable, then I will address you in the manner you deem fit.”

“My name will suffice my lord,” Ellaria replied. “But if that is too informal, then I suppose Lady Ellaria will do.”

“Very well,” His father nodded. “ Let us get you all settled in then.”

* * *

 

Robb walked hand in hand with his betrothed beside his half brother and his betrothed. For some strange reason, he carried a large canvas bag with him but Robb didn't question it.

“I understand that Starfall has a Godswood of its own,” He asked his brother, trying not to seem to eager to know his brother.

“We do,” Jon nodded with a smile. “We have several Weirwoods as well.”

“Some of the few that exists below the Neck I would imagine.” Alys murmured quietly. Robb knew that she, like many of the Northman, were weary of those from the South. She was trying to put all that aside if only because Jon was his brother and one of the most skilled men of their generation.

“Indeed,” Jon replied with a nod. “My mothers family has always held to both religions and I often spent more time in the Godswood than the Sept we had.”

“Truly?” Alys blinked in surprise. “But you are a knight Ser.”

“Strange isn't it,” Jon chuckled. “I am not a conventional knight I suppose.”

“Unlike most, you actually have skill.” Nymeria japed.

“Do you fight much, my lady?” Robb asked her.

“I train with my father and my countrymen mostly.” She answered. “Grenn, Pyp, and Sam are some of the few outsiders that I train with and on occasion someone will be willing to fight me. Why, are you offering to spar my lord?” She asked teasingly.

“Perhaps,” Robb's own voice was teasing. “But it may be a while yet before we could spar. This hour is the only time Alys and I will have to do what we wish for sometime yet.”

The wedding planning before his mother had locked herself in her rooms was daunting, now it was insufferable. He shouldn't complain, as his younger siblings needed their mother more, but it was difficult times right now.

“Pity, it might have been fun,” Nymeria replied and looked towards the one of the Larger Weirwoods in front of them. “Is this the one you wished to show us, Lord Robb?”

“It is,” He nodded. “This is not the largest tree, that privilege belongs to another in the Wolfswood, but this is ours and this is where our ancestors came to pray for guidance.” He told Jon.

“Beautiful.” His brother murmured, taking in the Weirwood. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“The one the Blackwoods have is almost as large,” Nymeria added. “That one unfortunately doesn't have the red leaves or red sap like this one. A shame really.”

They lapped into silence and Jon shrugged the bag at his shoulder off of it when they just stood there for a few minutes.

“I know your wedding is not for sometime yet,” He said by way of explanation and pulled out two weapons out of the bag. A Longsword in one hand and a large dagger in the other. “The sword is from me to you, Lord Robb.” He said rising to his feet and holding out the sword to him.

“And the dagger is from me to you, Lady Alys,” Nymeria took the dagger in hand and presented it to Alys. She shared a look with Robb.

“These are your wedding presents from us,” Jon tried to encourage them.

Robb hesitantly took the sword from his brother and admired the work on the sheath. It was a reddish brown leather that had wolves and filigree stitched into it. The handle was made for a two handed grip but it was primarily used for one handed use.

The handle was black and had the same reddish brown leather crisscrossing from the base of the guard all the way to the base of the pommel. The pommel itself was bronze in color and shaped like a howling wolf head. The guard was bronze in color as well, and the ends pointed upwards with sharp points.

“I remember that yours had been broken during the battle on Pyke,” Jon said when he looked at him. “I think its safe to say that this one won't break so easily. Look at the blade.”

Robb frowned and pulled the blade out, the ringing of Valyrian Steel filling his ears. He gaped at the blood red steel with a thousand ripples and folds.

“This is Red Rain,” He said in awe. “This is one of the swords you won during the Ironborn rebellion. I can't accept this, its yours by right.”

“And I am giving it to you,” Jon shook his head when Robb tried to give it back. “Midnight is enough for me and the heir of House Stark should have a sword that is reliable.”

Robb sheathed the sword after a moment and pulled his brother into a one armed hug, “Thank you,” He said. “No matter what happens after my wedding, you will always be welcome in Winterfell, this I swear by the Old Gods and the New.”

Jon patted his back awkwardly and when Robb pulled back his brother looked shocked, “Thank you.”

“You're family,” Robb said simply and turned to Nymeria. “And when you're both married, you will be as well.”

Nymeria smiled and nodded at him before she eyed Alys, “That's Damascus Steel , my lady.”

“It looks like Valyrian Steel,” Alys murmured as she took in the ripples of the curved blade. It reminded Robb of a snakes tongue or a stylized sun ray. The blade was as smoky as Ice was. The handle was black and the bottom of the blade curved outwards on both ends, forming a natural guard. The sheath itself was coated in bronze and there was art depicting the sun and its rays beaming down through a break in the clouds.

“It's almost as sharp but it has no magical properties unfortunately. My Rhoynish ancestors used to produce a lot of it but only the Orphans of the Greenblood know how to make it anymore. This one was given to me as a gift sometime ago, but I prefer the whip and shorter daggers to this. I understand that your family trains all members to fight but if you would like, I would be honored to teach you the techniques needed for this blade.”

Alys sheathed her blade and gave Nymeria a smile. “I think I would like that,” She said holding her hand out. Nymeria took it and gave her a shake. Robb began to remove his sword from his belt so he could wear his new one. Alys attached the dagger to her hip.

“I will give this to Bran when he is ready to use live steel.” He held up his old sword. “From now on I will use Frost and when Alys and I are blessed with children, one of them will hold this sword.” He patted the newly dubbed Frost. There was no way that he was going to leave it as Red Rain. That was the name its mother family gave it and the Ironborn hadn't been clever enough to change it. He would and Gods willing, Frost and Ice would remain in the family forever.

Alys blushed faintly but nodded at him, “The same for Sunburst.”

“Good names.” Jon nodded his head at them.

“All good blades deserve good names.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit of bonding between the eldest boys. I know I promised another reader that it wouldn't be easy for the Stark family to get on with Jon, but it makes sense that he and Robb would bond naturally. And since Theon isn't here, there won't be anyone to get in the way of that.


	13. Children

“Nana!” Vhaegon squealed as he toddled over to her. Lyanna smiled and scooped him up off of the floor. He tucked his head under her chin and played with the necklace the Rhaegar had given her.

“I knew he seemed eager to see you,” Missendei said with a chuckle as she held her youngest child. There was a slight bump that signaled she was with child once more.

“Did he now,” She tickled her grandson under his chin, delighting in the sound of his laughter.

“Ser Arthur wishes to see you as well.”

She refrained from sighing, “Where is he?”

“In the next room,” Her pseudo good daughter replied. Lyanna gave her grandson a kiss on the forehead and placed him on the bed, to much protest. “Nana will be right back, sweetling.” She did her best to ignore his whimpers and pleas for her to stay.

She crossed the room and opened the door to where Ser Arthur was.

“You wished to speak with me Ser?” She asked after closing the door. Arthur's lips were on hers the second the last word left her mouth. She bit back a moan when he tried to deepen the kiss. She pushed aggressively at his chest, not caring that he was wearing his armor.

“Are you mad?!” She gasped out when he stepped back from her. “Someone could have seen us!”

“We're in a locked room and there are no secret passageways that lead to it, I checked.” Arthur had the nerve to roll his eyes at her.

“The damned eunuch knows this place inside and out, all you did was walk around the fucking place,” She snapped back. “I swear to every god in existence if he saw us -”

“What would he do? Who would he tell? Jaehaerys already knows about us in case you forgot, he's played with his half siblings for fucks sake!” Arthur shot back.

“I will not have anyone claim that Jaehaerys is yours and not Rhaegar's,” She spit at him. “I did my duty to the Seven Kingdoms when I pledged myself to him and gave him the heir he needed. If anyone found out that we were fucking, and that we had children, Jaehaerys would never be able to hold onto his birthright!”

She scowled at him and moved into the room proper to get something to drink.

“Is that all you think about? The damn throne?” Arthur demanded. “What about Bethany and Cregan? Do you have no thoughts regarding them?!”

She spun to take a swing at him and she just grazed his nose since he took a step back.

“Never question my love for my children again!” She roared, taking another swing but Arthur caught the blow and held her to his chest. “I kept them away from Westeros to protect them, you know this damn you!”

“I know,” Arthur said quietly, having realized that he overstepped his bounds. “And I am sorry that I suggested otherwise. But Lya, you're acting like a southern woman and I know you hate politics. Its part of the reason that I fell in love with you.”

“I do hate politics but in a place like this, you need to know about it. And I will be damned if my children will be hurt because of me and my actions. I already lost a brother and a father,” She added mournfully, trying to wrench herself from him and Arthur let her go then. “That's why Bethany and Cregan need to stay in Pentos and wait to come here. The kingdoms need to be stable first.” She looked away from him.

“About that,” Arthur said nervously and she looked up at him with narrow eyes.

“What did you do?” She growled.

“Jaehaerys thought that it would be a good idea to bring his siblings with him to the North. You know that both of them are perfectly capable of defending themselves,” He added as she advanced on him and raised a fist. She took a calming breath and lowered her fist.

“Is there any other stupidity you wish to confess too?” She asked him quietly, eyes burning with rage. “If anything happens to those two, I will geld you myself. If Ned doesn't kill me first.” She muttered that last part to herself but Arthur heard her.

“Don't exaggerate love, Ned wouldn't hurt you.”

“He almost cut my head off when he came into the tower,” She said flatly. “Not even the fact that I was his sister or that I almost died giving birth changed that fact.”

“Ned would never harm a woman,” Arthur seemed less sure than before.

“But he would kill a traitor. Before everything was explained to him, he fully intended to kill me. I saw it in his eyes, he thought I got our father and brother killed.”

She sighed and rubbed at her face.

“Maybe I do exaggerate in saying that he would kill me now but he won't be happy to know that I had more children and that I didn't make sure that they were out of harms way. Just because I told him about the would be king, that son of a Braavosi whore, doesn't mean that he has forgiven me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Arthur told her. “You did your duty to the king you pledged yourself too. And Ned should be happy that Baelish was his to kill since he was the one who spread the lie about you being kidnapped in the first place.”

“But the Starks have always put family and by extension, the North, before ourselves. In my quest to have my right to choose, I endangered many lives. I don't regret having Jaehaerys or even marrying Rhaegar, but my head isn't so far up my own arse that I can't see the storm that will come when the news of my survival is heard throughout the realms.”

The Northern lords would potentially understand but would never forgive. The Southerners would be varied, mainly upset and opportunistic.

She would need to find a strong striking stick to beat the more unsavory wenches away from her son.

“Is there anything else you wanted to say?” She asked after an uncomfortable moment.

“Viserys is dead, and so is his second in command, Daario.” Lyanna looked at him blankly. “His men say they died from wounds they received in battle.” Arthur gave her a scrutinizing glance but Lyanna remained blank. She wouldn't tell him or anyone the truth, what could be gained from doing that?

Viserys just needed to show some restraint, just a little and he would have been alive. She thought while closing her eyes.

“Send word to Jaehaerys and Daenerys,” She told him. “And double the the patrols of the city. I know Varys vouched for the men he used to replace and kill the old city watch and red cloaks that were here, but five thousand men only go so far.”

A force from the Westerlands wouldn't come to help if Gerion and Tygett were successful. The Stormlands would be harried by several former sellsword companies, including the Golden Company who now operated under a different banner and leader. Brynden Tully wouldn't raise any force outside of defense for his countrymen but he wouldn't attack the capital.

“As you wish, your grace.” Lyanna looked at Arthur and he most likely figured out her role in the death of Viserys. He wouldn't say anything as he considered Viserys a little unhinged at times but he would not warm her bed for a while, mainly due to the fact that he most likely followed along the same line of thought as she did in regards to their forces.

* * *

  
“Why didn't you come home sooner, brother?” Genna asked Gerion who sighed.

“A variety of reasons, sister, many of which involve Tywin.” He grumbled before turning to his daughter. “Your uncle made it clear that I wouldn't be welcome back with nothing less than Brightroar and an apology. I brought the sword back but I wouldn't apologize.”

“That's not all you've brought back uncle,” Tyrion said over his goblet. “I understand that I have another cousin or two?” He looked over at

Gerion's twin sons, Jason and Lann Hill. Like their sister, they weren't planned and like their sister, they were raised by Gerion though slightly longer than Joy was. There was no explosive or dramatic outburst from his daughter when he revealed who they were.

It had shocked him really, he expected her to be hurt that he would sire more children with someone other than her mother but she had embraced the both of them with open arms.

“Indeed,” Gerion said. “I was actually hoping to have Joy come with us when I dropped the sword off.”

“Go, where would you go?” Tyrion blinked at him. “You could stay here.”

“The only way I could stay here would be when your father dies. I slighted him,” He added sarcastically when his nephew began to protest.“And we all know how he feels about slights. He had that damn song made to remind everyone, the bloody drama queen.”

“Gerion,” Kevan said warningly.

“What, I'll be gone before he gets back and unless you all plan on telling him what I said, he'll do nothing about it,” Gerion looked thoughtful and Tygett, who was off to the side and wearing his cloak, dipped his head. Gerion sighed and closed his eyes just as shouting was heard outside.

Kevan and the guards went to the windows, to check on the commotion. A small army of men were coming out of the old mines that linked to the courtyard and they fought with the guards. The doors to the main hall were then barred from the outside after several of his men stormed in.

“Who are you?” Tyrion demanded. “What are you doing in my home?!”

“Sit down and be quiet Tyrion,” Tygett said, throwing his hood back and drawing his Valyrian Steel crescent moon knives.

"Tygett?” Kevan said in wonder. “Tywin told us you were dead.”

“And I bet he hopes I was as well,” Tygett snapped out. “We have enough men in the mines to hold the castle from those who would try to lay siege to it. Call them off, brother, or else.”

“I would do as he says Kevan,” Gerion took a swig of his wine and got to his feet. He drew Brightroar from its sheath and stared at his older brother. “We will hold this castle in the name of our king and you will do as we say.”

“King Robert -”

“I wasn't talking about the Usurper,” Gerion told his daughter gently, cutting her off. “I speak of King Jaehaerys, Third of his name, and the rightful King of Westeros. The Usurpers days are numbered and the dragon flies once more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon will be in the next chapter, I promise. You guys will learn more about Lyanna's bastard children later and no, Jaehaerys is not Arthur's son, let me just say that right now.
> 
> Sorry if I make the power grab in the Westerlands look easy, but they have been planning this for a long time and their enemies do not know that any of them were still amongst the living which helps tremendously.


	14. Two Swords

Jon dodged his sisters strike even though it went wide. He tapped her exposed arm with wooden sword in his hands.

“Don't over reach, that's how you lose an arm,” Jon chided Arya who snorted.

“That's what armor is for,” She shot back, slashing at him. Jon parried and tapped her on the head with the sword.

“I've seen men cut through armor if they were big enough and strong enough,” Jon replied, sidestepping and smacking Arya on the rump.

She yelped and lashed out, narrowly missing Jon who dodged only at the last second to jump behind her and held his sword at her throat.

“And armor isn't everything, you need skill as well.”

He heard a whip crack and he twisted his body and held his sword in a defensive position. Nym's whip wrapped around his practice sword and pulled. While he held strong, Arya, having escaped from his hold, held her own wooden sword at his balls while he was distracted.

“Or you can have friends to help you,” Nym called out from behind him. The strength of her pull lessened and Jon heard her footsteps come closer. “I dare say that lady Arya is the first person to have you by the balls.”

“Besides you, right?” Arya japed with a grin. Jon raised his eyebrows at her, scandalized while Nymeria laughed. She wasn't the only one who found humor in what Arya said, his friends and uncles did as well. Even the gruff Ser Rodrik cracked a small smile.

Jon just rolled his eyes, “Never you mind about something like that,” He chided her and knocked her sword to the side. “You should have followed through on that one, then I wouldn't have done what I just did.”

He ruffled her hair with a smile and he noted that she seemed to bask in his show of affection. He thought it was odd since their siblings were clearly affectionate with her, but he guessed it was because he was new to her. Jon heard hurried footsteps and saw his younger brother Bran running towards them.

“Jon,” He gasped out after he skidded to a halt in front of him. “Father wants to see you and Lady Nym in his solar, he says its important.” He looked at Arya. “The Septa's on her way, you need to hide unless you want to get an earful.”

Arya rolled her eyes, “Fine, but can we train later?” She asked Jon, looking hopeful.

“Sure,” Jon replied. “But you'd better hurry if you don't want to be caught.”

Arya gave him a quick hug and dashed away, making it around a corner just as the Septa came into view. She quietly demanded where Arya was but no one said a thing.

“Why are you here Lord Bran? You are supposed to be studying with the Maester.” She told the young lord sternly.

“I am to escort Ser Jon and his betrothed to Winterfell's solar at the request of my father.”

She turned a gimlet eye towards Jon who looked at her with indifference.

“Very well, off with you.” She muttered and set out in her task of looking for Arya.

“The cook and some of the guards think she needs a strong drink, whatever that means.” Bran said in confusion after she was gone. Despite the fact that he was almost fourteen, he was still ignorant to certain things. “He said it would help her relax.”

“Oh she needs something strong alright,” Nym said with a wicked smirk. “Strong and stiff, it will loosen her right up.”

Jon gave her a look that told her to drop it even when Bran asked her to elaborate, “We'd best not keep Lord Stark waiting,” He said to his brother who still looked curious to Nym's meaning. Jon ignored the snickers and quirked lips of the others around them as Bran lead them away.

* * *

  
Ned watched his son read the deeds to his potential home with his betrothed. Robb sat near him, Benjen stood near the door and Prince Oberyn and his lover sat next to Jon and Nymeria. Luwin stood near the desk, ready to offer advice and record what happened for the records of Winterfell.

“They've misspelled my name,” Jon noted with a frown, sounding displeased.

“I know, I would have inquired about getting new ones but I was told that copies have already been sent to the Citadel.” Ned replied and Jon frowned even more.

“It looks Valyrian,” Nymeria commented. “And your grandmother was from Lys, its a good fit.” Never mind that her father had Targaryen blood and her mother was a noble from Volantis, Ned thought.

Jon's frown lessened but he still looked a little sullen.

“If you'd rather try something else-”

“I'll sign it,” Jon interrupted his father. “I cannot return home to Dorne and here you are, offering me the chance to build one in the place I've wanted to come to since I was a child.” He seemed upset with having said so much but he said nothing more about it.

Ned refrained from frowning, but admitted, “I wanted you to come here as well. And I asked your mother about it. She told me to go to hell.” Robb gave him a surprised look but Ned ignored him for now.

“I get a blunt knife to the balls and all he gets is a note,” Oberyn huffed to his lover playfully in an attempt to lighten the mood. It didn't work.

“Why didn't you come and get me?” Jon asked him flatly. “Were you not allowed?”

“Yes actually,” Ned responded with a nod, ignoring the mocking tone that his son used. “Your uncle said I would be shot on sight if I ever showed my face near Starfall again.”

“But my uncle always spoke of you respectfully, he admired the way you closed down the borders to your kingdom after the Usurpers war.” Jon replied suspiciously.

“You can still respect some things about a person and despise the other things they do. Keep in mind, I broke your mothers heart and shamed your uncle Arthur into exile. The fact that your uncle Aron didn't kill me and my companions all those years ago was a miracle.”

Ashara understood why he did what he did even if she didn't like it. Neither she nor Aron were in on the plan to unseat Robert so they were both upset about Arthur leaving. The fact that Ned suggested that they do it didn't exactly endear him to them.

“And Jon Arryn was like a second father to me,” Ned continued. “I will remember the good times we shared fondly. But he thought it was okay to let two shits from the Westerlands off the hook after they committed heinous crimes. I showed him just how much I respected that decision when I opened the throat of Amory Lorch.”

It was probably only time Ned had given into the wolf blood that ran through his veins. He was the only one in the throne room that was even remotely disgusted with what happened, save for the men he brought with him. When he had argued with Robert, saying that they came to kill men and not women and babes, his foster brother scoffed.

“I see none of that here, I see nothing but Dragonspawn and a dragons whore.”

He laughed then, low and guttural and mocking. Others snickered as well and when Ned saw that one of them was Lorch, he snapped. Lorch only had time to widen his eyes before Ned's sword cut along his throat. He turned his sword on the Mountain and only managed to make a few dents in the mans armor before he was seized.

Whether it was for the love he bore him, or because of some political undertaking that Ned couldn't see, Jon Arryn advised against executing him. If all went well, it would be his undoing.

“I never thanked you for that my lord,” Prince Oberyn said in a soft voice. His eyes burned with grief as he continued, “You had no reason to do as you did.”

“Justice was why I did it,” Ned said honestly. “My only regret, if I have any, is the fact that the Mountain's armor was too thick and he was too tall for me to reach his throat.”

“If only I was there with my spear,” Oberyn said hollowly. “Still, you have my thanks.” Ellaria kissed Oberyn's cheek affectionately then before she gave Ned a grateful nod and looked at him with respect. His son and his would be good daughter did as well.

“I would be a fool to turn down this offer. I'll sign the papers my Lord and I'll swear my oaths of fealty. ”

Ned handed him a quill and Jon did as he said he would. When he finished signing, he took a knee and so did his intended.

“I am to be his wife,” She said before anyone could ask and with a confidence that did not waver one bit. “I will take the oath as well.”

Ned allowed it and handed Jon a ceremonial dagger made of obsidian.

“Cut the back of your palm and let it bleed over that.” He gestured to the Weirwood sapling Robb brought over and placed it in front of Jon. Luwin brought over a bucket of water and laid it on the floor next to the sapling. Jon did as he was told and as soon as the first drop of blood reached the plant, Ned spoke again.

“Repeat after me. I, Ser Jon of house Baeric, do solemnly swear to uphold my oaths of fealty to my overlord, the Stark in Winterfell.”

“I, Ser Jon of house Baeric, do solemnly swear to uphold my oaths of fealty to my overlord, the Stark in Winterfell.” Jon repeated.

“Blood is what I give for this oath, and blood is what I will pay should I fail to uphold it.”

“Blood is what I give for this oath, and blood is what I will pay should I fail to uphold it.”

“Dip the blade in the water and then hand it to your betrothed.” Jon did as he said and Ned had Nymeria give the same oath with the obvious differences. Luwin wrapped their hands with cloth that was soaked in a special salve to help with the healing process.

“Rise Ser Baeric, Lady Nym.” Ned murmured. “Rise as sworn Bannerman of the North.” He gave Benjen a nod and his brother brought a box over and stood in front of their nephew.

“This is something all lords along the Wall and the Gifts are given when they ascend,” Benjen grinned, opening the black leather box to reveal a sword. Not an ordinary sword either, for the blade was white like milk glass, not unlike Dawn. The bottom part of the blade was thick and it tapered to a sharp point.

It was roughly the size of a Longsword if a bit larger and the pommel was hammered black iron that was shaped like a coffin. The guard was black as well and curved upwards and each end was in the shape of a dragons tail, to honor the Dragon Kings who helped put an end to the Walker Threat so long ago. The blade was covered in the runes of the First Men along the fuller.

“Amazing.” Jon whispered. The others who grew up outside of the North stared in awe at the blade. Even Luwin, who had lived and seen blades like this before looked at it with wide eyes.

“Its name is Peacekeeper and its yours,” Benjen murmured. “It can cut through just about anything except other swords like it and Valyrian Steel. You don't have to use it if you're afraid of losing it but we have thousands of them at Castle Black for the defense of the Wall against the Wildlings, if you need one replaced, I can get you one.”

“But if you need it to be repaired, send it to the Mountain Clans, they know how to make and fix Northern Iron.”

Jon's hand ghosted along the top of the handle, “Shouldn't I swear my oaths to you as my liege first?” Jon said to Benjen who snorted.

“One set of oaths is enough, unless you want to bleed some more, I'm sure that Luwin has more salve to use.” Benjen rolled his eyes slightly. “Just take the damn sword Jon, its not as if you are opposed to using two at once.”

Jon took the sword from the box and held it up to take a look at it.

“It seems we now share the same issue brother,” Robb said with a small smile, speaking for the first time. “One sword for the house, another for another child.”

Jon said nothing but he smiled as well. He caught Ned's eyes and Ned saw genuine respect there as opposed to the courtly one born out of courtesy. Maybe Ned imagined it, but he thought he saw the same look of adoration that his other children gave him before it disappeared entirely.

Ned shook his head and reveled in the joy he saw on the face of his first born son. He would cherish this moment since he never could in all the years that passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may seem weird for Jon to be getting another sword but it is tradition for those along the Wall and in the Gifts to get one like this. I will explain more about this in another chapter. Also, the only threats they have to face at the Wall are the Wildlings who get passed it if they are good enough or lucky enough to do so. No White Walkers are in this story in case any of you were wondering.
> 
> And you do still pronounce Jon's name as you normally would instead of Bay-rick. The spelling is the only thing that's changed is all.


	15. Conviction

“I don't understand father, why would you betray your family?”

Gerion sighed and rubbed at his neck, “It wasn't easy Joy, but I swore an oath to place the rightful king on the throne.” He wouldn't bother to deny that he had betrayed his family but this would ensure their survival. This and if they bent the knee.

“Does that include killing uncle Emmon?” Joy snarled at him.

“Father didn't kill him, I did.” Jason reminded her. Emmon had stupidly thought he could be brave in the moment and tried to kill Gerion. Jason got to him first. “And we shared no blood with him, just aunt Genna and her sons.”

“Don't talk to me!” Joy snapped at him.

“Shouldn't you be more upset with the fact that the Frey cunt tried to kill our father?” Lann spoke next. “You have a strange way of showing concern for our father.”

“Boys, go outside. I need to be alone with your sister.” Jason and Lann shrugged at him but left all the same.

“Such lovely brothers you bring home to me father.” Joy muttered.

“They're not entirely wrong, Ser Emmon wasn't family.” Joy looked at him in disbelief.

“He was aunt Genna's husband.”

“And husbands and wives can be replaced.” Gerion said simply, taking a seat and gesturing for her to do the same. She refused and he continued anyway, “If you know anything about my sister then you know she will hardly miss Emmon Frey.”

“But he is the father of her children,” Joy frowned. “If she didn't like him as you suggest, why did she give him four sons?”

“Who said they were his?” Gerion countered. “The one thing a Frey can be counted on is the fact that their progeny have weasel like faces. None of Genna's sons do. Sure you could say that the Lannister blood won there, but that doesn't explain why all of them look more Westerlander instead of Frey.”

“Believe me Joy, my sister would have never let that man sire a child on her, those boys are not Frey's.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“Believe what you know if you will not believe me.” Gerion said instead. “Think of all the times you've seen them together. Are their interactions based on love or does my sister bully him into submission? Does she give him genuine affection or is it used to hide the thinly veiled insults she hurls at him?”

Joy sat down after a moment with a sigh, “How does your king even plan on winning, the dragons were over thrown for a reason.”

“And that reason is gone.”

“This will break the peace that has been established.”

“Our people used to do nothing but make war on each other and the Dragons put an end to that. The peace you think exists now was never going to last anyway. Dorne was wronged by the murders of their princess and her children. The North never agreed with such a thing and they despise your uncle because it was he who ordered it.”

He sighed and rubbed at his face.

“I don't know what you have been told but Robert Baratheon has nearly ruined everything during his reign. Sure house Lannister has given and received all the money and trade it can, but without the North and Dorne,” He shook his head. “My brother didn't think of the long term ramifications of his actions. I suppose he assumed that everyone would bow to his wishes, like everyone else did after he murdered our kin.”

“Kin?”

“House Reyne and House Tarbeck were our cousins,” Gerion explained. “The Reynes more so than the Tarbecks but they had intermarried so we all shared blood. Didn't save them in the end though.”

“Then maybe they shouldn't have rebelled against their Overlord.”

“And maybe Robert and his friends shouldn't have rebelled against their king.”

Neither said another word after that, they were too irritated to keep the conversation going.

* * *

  
Doran tossed the missive he read into the fire and watched it burn, occasionally shifting the wood with a poker. Kings Landing had been taken and they would hold for the moment. The Queen mother had asked him personally to keep certain Marcher Lords busy so they couldn't move to the aid of their Overlord, Stannis Baratheon.

It galled him slightly to refer to the woman in such a way as his sister should have been Queen but his sister was too delicate and Rhaegar needed a woman who wasn't. Lyanna Stark was the mother of his future King and maybe future good son.

Doran wasn't a fool, his daughter was not the only candidate up for marriage. Lady Margaery was possible and there were plenty of noble daughters across the continent. But politically, Arianne and Margaery were his best options. The bounty of the Reach would flow to those who pledged themselves to the Dragon once more and open trade could continue when King Jaehaerys took the Throne.

But, what better way to ensure Dorne's allegiance than through marriage?

Doran himself would pledge Dorne to the King, his banners would follow well enough since they all wanted the same thing – Robert Baratheon off the throne and vengeance for those who were killed all those years ago. If they wanted to, they could remain independent and fight a single dragon, but three at once? It had never been done, and it would be inadvisable to do so.

A small part of him took some pleasure in the fact that Rhaegar's spawn wouldn't have it easy. No lord or king should every sit too easy, lest they grow soft. Whatever choice the King chooses, he would follow if only to sit back and enjoy the show.

“Areo.” He called softly to his old Norvoshi friend. “Send word to those along the Northern border. Tell them to make trouble for the Marcher Lords connected to the Stormlands.” Well, more trouble than usual. He thought wryly.

“At once, my prince.”

* * *

  
“I don't understand why Lord Eddard needed the Usurpers signature for the deeds of Queensgate.” Ser Cregan Wolfstar said to his brother as they sparred on the deck of Queen Rhaella, the ship named in the late Queen's honor. “Yours would have been better.”

“No signature was needed,” Jaehaerys dodged his brothers punch and landed one on Cregan's back. “The ruler of the North doesn't need permission from the crown to give land. None of the Wardens do actually, they only do so out of courtesy. Uncle Ned on the other hand, did so quietly to distract the Usurper. Otherwise someone might have complained that a Dornish knight was given land over them, mainly someone from the Reach.”

“But surely that would have provided a distraction on its own,” Cregan grunted as he swept his leg out towards his brother's. Jay jumped over and rolled away to safety and Cregan kicked out again while he tried to regain his footing. Jay caught his leg and rolled again, this time taking Cregan with him to the deck.

“It would have been a distraction for everyone,” Jay punched his brother in the face and backed away to put some distance between them. “It would have distracted from the wedding of our cousin, and put more scrutiny there. Someone could have looked too hard into it. No, uncle Ned keeping it secret was for the best. And remember, cousin Jon wasn't supposed to go to the wedding in the first place but Robb and Uncle Ned decided to invite him anyway.”

“Why didn't Lord Eddard ask Jon sooner though?” Jay got behind his brother and did his best to restrain him.

“Because they never talked that much,” Jay grunted as his brother fought back. He was thrown away from his brother, not a surprise really since Cregan was good at throwing people off of him. “It was part of the agreement he made with Lady Ashara. He decided that enough time had passed for him to get to know his son.”

“Should he really be indulging in such a thing?” Cregan cried out when Jay kicked him first in the knee and then in the ribs. Jay spun on his heel and back handed Cregan, sending him crashing to the deck.

“He can,” Jay panted as he stood over his brother and held out a hand. Cregan took it after rubbing his jaw and Jay pulled him to his feet. “Eighteen years is a long time to not see one's child. I don't know how I would survive if I never saw mine for that long. Uncle Ned is a strong man, never let anyone tell you any differently. Besides, if Jon is half as good as the stories say he is, he'll be a keen ally for when we take down the Usurper.”

Jaehaerys looked up when he heard the screech of his red dragon, Rhaegor.

Let me see what you do, my darling. He thought and his vision blurred before he was looking through the eyes of his bonded companion.

There was land up ahead, and he could smell a copious amount of fish.

“We're near White Harbor,” He announced, blinking his vision back to normal. His brother eyed him wearily and their sister had joined them. “Oh don't tell me that you two still aren't used to that.”

“As long as we see gray eyes, its fine,” Bethany replied. She look the most like mother out of all of them, but unlike Cregan or Jaehaerys, her eyes were a pale shade of indigo, like Ser Arthur.

She was named after their mother's childhood friend, Bethany Ryswell and was gifted with a short sword and shield. She hadn't earned her Denship yet, since only a Dame could make another and mother hadn't bestowed the title onto her.

“But it is still strange to see your eyes become dragon like,” Cregan murmured.

Jaehaerys just shrugged, “Its a gift.” He said simply and looked back to the sky, watching his dragon fly about with Dany's black dragon, Shadow, and the unclaimed blue dragon, Ice Eyes. Dany was on Shadow at the moment so she probably saw what he did.

“And it's going to help us fix the Seven Kingdoms.”


	16. Honesty

Nym was watching her future husband train with his new soldiers for his Keep. Most of them had been acquired from Bolton lands, others had volunteered from other villages and strongholds. Other lords from the Gifts and the Wall observed the newly made 'Lord' Jon. Some of those eyes glanced her way but they didn't linger for long.

“When you marry him they'll observe you as well,” A voice said from her left. She turned slightly and a woman entered her line of sight with one child on her hip and another at her side. “They did for me when I married my husband.” She thrust a hand out for her to shake. “Dacey Stark, I'm Benjen's wife.”

“Nymeria Sand, Ser Jon's betrothed,” Nym shook Dacey's hand, noting the strong grip. She eyed the children then and the youngest, a girl with short hair, buried their face in Dacey's shoulder, seemingly shy.

“Don't mind Joss, she doesn't do well around strangers,” Dacey said dismissively though Nym didn't actually mind so much. “And this one is my younger boy, Joran. Go on then, say hello.”

“Are you a witch?” The boy asked her quietly. Her eyebrows rose at that and she gave Dacey a look. Dacey just sighed and looked to sky in way that suggested that she was looking for an answer.

“Why do you think I am a witch?” Nym knelt slightly to be level with the boy.

“Mama says that all Southern women are witches.”

Dacey sighed and rolled her eyes, “I said Southern women from the Reach were bitches, and I have my reasons for that.”

She looked at Nym, “My cousin was married to one such bitch from House Hightower who left her husband and children behind because it got too cold during the Winter. “

“Thankfully she didn't steal anything on her way out but if I ever see her again, her face will become close friends with my fist,” She looked down at her son and said softly. “If you are going to repeat what mummy says, make sure you say it correctly, darling.”

“Bitches, not witches,” Joran nodded his head firmly and Nym couldn't help but chuckle. She felt fur press into her side then, and the boys eyes widened before he hid behind his mother.

“Hello Ghost,” Nym murmured, running her hand through his fur. The Direwolf pressed into her side some more in response.

“You've seen a Direwolf before, darling.” Dacey murmured to her son. “Papa has Mist, remember?”

“But Mist doesn't have red eyes,” Joran said, peering out from behind his mother to look at Ghost wearily.

Ghost whined and laid on his stomach, looking at Joran meaningfully.

“He wants you to pet him,” Nym said to the boy who shook his head. “He won't hurt you, he would never hurt a child.” Joran looked up at his mother then and she nodded encouragingly. As he walked forward, she gave Nym a look that promised pain if her son was hurt.

Thankfully Ghost just laid there, and Joran pressed a hand into his fur, earning a pleased rumble from the beast. Joran's face lit up and he scratched behind Ghosts ear and the rumbling increased.

“I had heard about the runt of Winter's litter, and how he would never function well unlike his litter mates.” Dacey commented, eying Ghost,“But he seems to be healthy enough now. And he and his litter mates aren't finished growing either.”

Normally that might be seen as a ridiculous statement but Nym had seen the size of their mother and she was bigger than a large horse. Right now, Ghost was bigger than a mature pony.

“How did you feel about Ser Jon's ceremony of oaths,” Dacey asked her with an interested look. “Most Southerners think it to be a barbaric practice worthy of the lowest of heathens.”

“I'm not like most Southerners, since I took the oath as well.” She held up her hand to show the fading scar there. She wondered what was in the salve the Maester used, her hand should have still been healing or scabbing over at the very least.

She was idly aware of the stares she was now getting and the whispered conversations, but she paid them no mind as Dacey grabbed her hand and rubbed a thumb along the scar there.

“You're not even married to him and you would pledge yourself to the North,” Dacey let her hand go. “Interesting.”

“I love him,” Nymeria said simply, eyes drifting to her betrothed. “I've loved him since I knew what that word meant. I love him so much that I am willing to wait for us to say our vows to each other.”

“You already did,” Nym blinked at Dacey who smirked slightly. “At least you did. When you pledged yourself to the North, in your heart you were thinking of him, yes?” Dacey didn't wait for an answer as she put her daughter on top of Ghost when the girl demanded such a thing.

“In the eyes of the Old Gods, you claimed Jon as your equal, and in the eyes of the Old Gods, he is your husband,” Dacey explained. “I guess if you wish to make it more binding you could have Ser Jon do the same or marry in the style of the Seven.”

Nym blinked still, “I'll talk it over with Jon.” Part of her was happy at such a thing but she knew it was not entirely binding and could be contested at some point. Joss squealed happily as Ghost gave her and her brother a ride on his back. Nym smiled brightly then, thinking of the children she could have with Jon warmed her heart even more.

* * *

  
“You gave him land,” His wife says flatly. “And a title.”

“I did, and I even had Robert sign off on it,” Ned replied barely looking up from his paper work to see that his wife was steadily getting angry.

“Do you even mean to pledge yourself to him again?” She asked, still sounding flat.

“No, and I didn't want him to come.” Ned admitted. “Him coming here was the price for him signing those papers alongside his father in law though, so I paid it.”

“If you didn't want him here, then why -”

“I know how Southerners think,” Ned replied before she could say anything more. “I know that they plan all the time. Some of them are quite clever with their plans. Others only think they are clever but they don't understand that schemes and plots are one in the same yet they think there is a difference.”

He sighed, “I gave you peace all these years when I honored Ashara's wishes to not have Jon come here sooner,” His wife jerked at that, showing a more human response than she had when she was cooped up in her rooms after the news of Lysa and her children. “But myself, and my heir, want him here and the Wall can use gifted warriors to help defend it. Giving him Queensgate made the most sense.”

The Wildlings grew bold from time to time and occasionally, they could sneak past the defenses of the Wall. That's why every able bodied person was valuable. And while Jon had talent and honor, he wasn't ruled by it. He could make the hard decisions that most men couldn't make, Ned had seen it in his eyes. He had the look of a man who could pass the sentence and swing the sword without taking joy and pleasure in it.

Ned had learned to do that during the wars and that fateful day in Kings Landing. He would never forget what he learned all those years ago.

“He will be tested, constantly, just as Benjen is.” Ned continued. “Those with the blood of the Free Folk are brutal but fair. They test everyone – I myself was tested when I sought to avenge my father and brother and gain answers about my sister by them and the rest of my Bannerman. The only time I truly disappointed those of the Free Folk was when I didn't let the Greatjon carve your father in twain.”

Here she looked disgusted. As tempting as it was to see the presumptive ass of a man get killed by his friend, Ned needed the man alive at the time.

“Jon will never be able to get any support for one of your imagined bastard uprisings,” Ned added softly. “He'll have to prove himself, as will his wife and whatever children they have. But Robb won't have it easy either, his marrying Lady Alys won't suddenly make everyone else defer to him but its a start.”

Jon doesn't even have that, He thought to himself as his wife seemed to understand given how things worked in the Riverlands with all the squabbles that took place. Ned was secure in his decision though, Jon would have a place to call home, but he wouldn't rest easy. It was far away enough and ruled in a way that the rest of his Banners wouldn't protest the appointment. It also showed Ned's confidence in his son and his desire to not play favorites with those who shared blood with House Stark.

The farther North you went, the less time there was for talk or play, you had to be strong or the people, nay, the North, would swallow you up. Ned was sure that Jon and his soon to be bride had the strength to carry them on in life, and that strength could be taught to their children.

Robb did have it easy in a way, but only for those in this part of the North and only for now. That meant nothing in comparison to those further North. He would have to show them all that he was worth following.

“Is there anything else, my lady?”

“Have you solved the issue of who will gain the Dreadfort?”

“I believe I have,” Ned replied. “There is a member of the Winter Rose who could take it. His name is Ser Yvar, though most call him the Ironhide. I've consulted the family trees of the North and his bloodline only has ties to the Boltons and very little of anyone else. If he died no one but his brother could claim the land.”

“When I reduce the lands to an acceptable amount, he could raise the Dreadfort to a knightly seat at most and a very minor seat at worst. I have taken his measure and as unrefined as he is in some areas, he is a good man.” And he wouldn't complain about the reduced lands since he never had any to begin with, Ned thought.

“Would it not be best to give it to someone else?” Catelyn asked her him. “I was thinking that my cousin Jayne could take it.”

And how much did that hurt your pride to say out loud, I wonder?

“Your uncle is adamant that she keep Riverrun if she wishes,” Ned replied softly. “I am not inclined to change his mind on that.”

“Riverrun has belonged to House Tully for over a thousand years,” Catelyn bit out. “How would you feel if Winterfell belonged to anyone else?”

“If my family name was coming to an end, I would be grateful that someone with my blood could look after the family seat.” Ned watched as she reddened in anger. “Your uncle has his reasons for doing what he's doing and maybe one day he will tell you why. Or maybe he won't, because you are your fathers daughter.”

“My father was hardly some beast as your tone suggests.”

“But he wasn't a good man either or do you not remember what he said if I didn't marry you?”

“Don't pretend like you were the only one forced into a marriage you didn't want,” She snapped at him before her shoulders seem to sag. “My father wasn't a good man but he did what he thought was best for our family and for the Riverlands.”

“I won't pretend that I didn't cry or rage at my father about this,” She gestured between them. “But I stopped when I realized that none of those things was going to bring back the man I loved.”

She gripped the armrests of her chair. “Tell me honestly, if there was a way for us to no longer be married - excluding death - and if it didn't put our children in danger, would you have cast me aside, and married the person you love?”

She was on the verge of tears but he answered her honestly, “Yes,” He said and she sighed, looking like a great weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. “You?”

“Yes. Would you mourn for me if I did die though?”

“No more than necessary.”

“Same,” She nodded with a gentle smile. “You're a good man Ned, and a damn good father, but my heart belonged to Brandon.”

“And you are a good mother and woman Cat, but Ashara...” He trailed off with a laugh. “There is just no question about it.”

“We sound so selfish,” She murmured. “We act as if they would have said yes to us.”

“Brandon was besotted with you,” Ned countered. “Wouldn't shut up about the fact that he was going to marry you.”

“And Ashara?”

That was probably the first time she said her name without flinching, “She would have made me work for it,” He laughed. “Make me prove that I was worthy of her affection.”

Catelyn chuckled again before she sobered suddenly, “I will pay your son the courtesy he deserves as a knight in the time that he is here. I can do no more or less than that.” She told him.

“Thank you, I wouldn't force you to do more than you were prepared to do.”

“I know,” Catelyn said dryly and looked thoughtful. “If our situations were reversed, and I had Brandon's child, how would you feel?”

“I don't know,” He said to her surprise. “I doubt I would hate the child or even you, but honestly, I don't know how I would feel if you got to have a piece of the one you loved, and I didn't.”

She nodded her head, “By your leave, my lord, I would return to my rooms to prepare,” Her eyes dimmed slightly, no doubt she was thinking of her sister and her nephews. Ned nodded for her to go, and when she left he blew out a breath of relief as he reflected on what was probably the most honest conversation he had with his wife.


	17. Family Matters

“And what makes you think that I would bend my rather short knees to your king, uncle?” Tyrion asked as he took a drink. “Why shouldn't I just lock down the Rock?”

“Because I already took it over,” Gerion replied, eying his nephew with a frown. “How much have you been drinking, Tyrion?”

“Oh, a bit here, and a bit there,” Tyrion shrugged. “About a cask or two.”

“Is drinking all you do now?” Gerion asked, sounding curious instead of disappointed in his nephews habits.

“I know things as well,” Tyrion shot back playfully. “For instance, your men will not be able to this castle by the time father gets back.”

“Staging a rebellion are you?”

“Father has never lost, in anything, except for mother,” He murmured that last part quietly. “And he will not take kindly to the fact that two of his brothers tried to take it. And for a king that doesn't exist with beasts that died along time ago.”

“When you see the dragons for yourself, nephew, you won't scoff so loudly or think that your father is invincible.”

“My father is but a man, he is capable of making mistakes and dying like everyone else but his sheer force of will is enough to make even the Stranger stay his hand. It will be awhile yet before your imaginary King takes his head.”

He would have taken it earlier, but his cousin had unknowingly given him opportunity to get Tywin and Robert at the same time, Gerion thought, feeling some pity for Robb Stark and Ser Jon Beric. The lads didn't know what was planned and would probably be right cross when they found out.

“Not that long, nephew,” Gerion murmured, mostly to himself as Tyrion started to doze off. “Your father won't live for long.”

“Are you so eager to see him dead?”

“Are you so eager to see him live?” Gerion countered. “After all that he has done?”

“He is my father,” Tyrion said softly, bitterly.

“And I am his brother, that doesn't mean that I should ignore or forgive my brothers misdeeds,” He used that word loosely, crimes was a more apt description but he wasn't sure as to how his nephew would react. “Actually Tyrion, there is something that I've been meaning to ask – why are you not in the Winter Lands at the moment?”

Gerion had a good idea as to why and he was glad the Tyrion was here where he could keep an eye on him but he wasn't too sure on the details.

“Father thought it would be best for one of us to stay here and watch Casterly Rock.” Tyrion replied. “I must admit I agree with him even though its come to this.” He gestured around.

“Your father would have had it worse than you,” Gerion replied. “If my king didn't ask me to let him live, I might have let one of my men kill him.”

Tyrion's eyes widened, “You hate my father that much?”

“Hate has nothing to do with it,” Tyrion looked at him in disbelief. “I mean it Tyrion, I don't hate Tywin, its the opposite in fact, I love him dearly. But that love hasn't blinded me to the fact that he could never stand being in our fathers shadow so he over compensated. So much so that he murdered our kin – even the ones who bent their knees.”

Tyrion looked surprised as he continued, “I was there, nephew,” Gerion said softly, “When a woman begged for her childrens lives and do you know what your father did? He had her raped and killed, her children were drowned or carved up like pigs. Others begged and bent to swear their fealty, but your father didn't care, he had them all killed.”

“I protested to such a thing, Tygett protested, but all we got was nothing but a cold stare and a reminder that we were not the leaders of our house. Kevan was no use since he often pretended that there was no problem in what Tywin did and no one else was willing to speak up, either too afraid or too eager to take part in such violence.”

“I love my brother but he is a monster and no matter how many good moments we had together or the glimmers of times when he was happy will change that image.”

* * *

  
Stannis scowled as he read the missive in front of him. House Seaworth was under siege and he doubted that they would hold for long. Some of the houses to the south of him were already taken or besieged by foreign invaders from the East.

The Dornish had decided to harass his Marcher lords for reasons unknown. They didn't hire this force of invaders – he could tell that by the fact that there were no reports of them joining them in the fields of battle. And they only decided to do as they were well after the invasion had begun. Someone hired these people and convinced Dorne to offer aid.

The problem was that he didn't know who could have done it. His lords suggested the Lannisters, but as underhanded and cowardly as these sudden attacks were, he doubted that it was them. They had nothing to gain from war and they owned most of the continent as it was. And Dorne would never ally with them, not after what had happened.

No, the lions were not involved and what worried him was that this attack wasn't repelled by those on Dragonstone and the Capitol which meant several things. This force was able to sail by undetected, which was possible, or those in charge of each stronghold was too incompetent to notice, which was slightly unlikely or they let these people into these lands.

If he still prayed or worshiped anything anymore, he would pray to all the gods in existence that it was one of the former scenarios. If any of those places had fallen into enemy hands or were in fact the masterminds behind this whole operation, then it was safe to say that another war was inevitable and Robert's reign was under threat.

He shook his head and grabbed his helmet by the mummers antlers that the smith had put on it. He placed it on his head and went to get his horse. He had men to lead and castles to free, and when all was said and done, he would make those responsible pay for this injustice.

* * *

  
His uncle looked older than ever before. Lord Arryn stared coldly at the places where his family was to be buried. He turned that cold but tired gaze towards him.

“How did this happen?” His uncle hissed out, sounding both furious and desperate at the same time. “How did you let this happen?!”

“We were ambushed, uncle,” He tried to appear sad and detached but that was difficult to do so under the watchful gaze of his kin. “The Corbray's -”

“ -Would never have done this! They would have never have betrayed my house in such a way!”

“But they did,” His uncle seized him by his collar then. “Uncle, please! It was Lord Lyonel and his brothers, I swear! Ser Lyn murdered your wife and heir before I could reach them! I dueled Ser Lyn and almost lost if Ser Orson Stone hadn't helped me.”

“You should have kept them alive,” Jon Arryn hissed again. “They were not yours to judge, they were _mine_.”

“We fought to the death uncle, they didn't plan on being taken alive. They wanted us all dead. I don't know the reason why but -”

His uncle shoved him away, “Get out of my sight.” He snapped, tears spilling from his eyes and he wiped them away angrily. “Get. Out!” He roared when Elbert didn't move. Elbert didn't fake the flinch he gave in response to the sound.

Elbert actually felt a little sorry about putting his uncle through this pain but he would not let the Eyrie be ruled by weak boys. His cousins needed to go and the Seven would judge him accordingly when he died but not before.

So, he bowed his head and shuffled away from his uncle. He could hear his uncle sob and scream behind him as he left and he made a note to have an entire vial of Sweetsleep be poured into his uncles wine. It would kill his uncle no doubt, but it would be painless and he would see his family sooner rather than later.

And unlike with his cousins, Elbert wouldn't have to pretend to mourn his uncles death come the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon's mention in this chapter is not an error, Gerion doesn't know about the spelling change and it would seem odd if I wrote it in that way.


	18. Hiatus

Okay, this story is only being put on hold. I am not giving up on it, and I have no plans to do so. However, my first priority has always been my family and right now my family needs me. I won't bore you with all the details but my little brother was injured and I am helping him recover. I know this sucks and I know that a lot of people like this story - you have no idea how appreciative I am of all the people who have commented, viewed and given kudos to this little fic of mine.

I thank you all from the bottom of my heart and it pains me to have to do this but my family will always come first, and fanfiction will always be second. I don't know when I will be back and if it will only be one chapter or several, but this note will remain up until then. I ask for your patience in this but I understand that a lot of you will be disappointed, I am little as well but this isn't about me. Its about my brother and by extension, all of you.

I could have left this alone and not told any of you, but that's just not in my nature unless it is something extremely private. You all deserve to know why I won't be here for the foreseeable future. Again thank you all so much for your support and I hope that you all will understand.

This has been your Captain speaking, and I wish you all the best.


	19. Thank You

You all have no idea how much your words of kindness mean. I am overwhelmed by the support you all have shown today. Again, I thank you and I promise that if I have time in between helping my brother, I will post a chapter after it is written. I am writing sporadically but my brother has encouraged me to do more since he knows how much I love doing this.

You all have my thanks and my love.

\- Captain Hazard


	20. Intrigue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! My brother has gotten better but he's still healing. I managed to get this done and will work on the next one as soon as I can. My brother and myself thank you all for the well wishes and kind thoughts you posted on here.

Jon was curled against his betrothed – sorry, wife - when the door to his chamber was knocked on. Strangely, it was towards the bottom of the door, as if someone was kicking it. It didn't help with headache he now had from the drinking he did last night.

“Oh leave it love,” Nym murmured sleepily, rubbing her bare arse against his cock. “Its too early to deal with anyone right now, especially after last night.”

That wasn't entirely true, he could see that the sun was out when he glanced out of the window. It wasn't high in he sky but it wasn't late in the morning either he reckoned. There was a slightly more insistent knock this time, followed by a voice.

“Jon!” Arya called from behind the door. “Stop shagging your wife for one second and open the door!”

He felt Nym shake against him as she tried to keep her laughter in. He flushed slightly and stumbled out of the bed, irritated with his sister in that moment. He wrapped himself in a blanket and wrenched the door open.

Arya stood on the other side holding a tray of food. She wrinkled her nose at him and his state of dress. The smell probably didn't help either.

“Get in.” He barked at her. She rolled her eyes but complied. “Now what was so important that you had to come here?” He asked, regretting the fact that in his haste he had slammed the door and he winced at the noise.

“I've brought food,” She put the tray down on one of the tables. Nym had lifted her head at that, but she made no other moves. “And father wants to see you and your wife in the Godswood when you're finished. So hold off on giving me a nephew or niece just yet and bathe for Gods sake. This whole room smells like a brothel that hasn't been cleaned yet.”

“And how would you know what that smells like?” Nym sat up then, covering herself lazily with one of the blankets.

“I've explored the lands of my family, walked amongst the people. My parents were most upset when I disappeared for nearly a whole day. Mother was upset about where I went and father was more concerned that I didn't have any guards with me. But I had to see how the people lived and if they needed help in anyway.” Arya shrugged her shoulders.

Her gaze turned mischievous as she glanced at Nym, “Why so shy now?” She nodded at the blanket. “You certainly gave everyone an eyeful last night.” She teased.

Jon frowned at that, trying his best to remember the party to his impromptu wedding. Nym, for her part shrugged her shoulders and let the blanket drop.

“I wasn't sure if you had any delicate sensibilities like your sister,” Nym drawled. Sansa was easily the most distant of her husbands half siblings. She was cordial but was no doubt scandalized by what Nym did last night. Not that she could bring herself to care really, since disaster had been avoided.

Arya snorted, “They're just tits, nothing special about them.”

“Mine happen to be very special,” Nym countered, shooting a smirk in Jon's direction.

“Just because Jon likes them doesn't mean anything,” Arya added dismissively.

Jon, feeling uncomfortable, spoke up, “Did Lord Stark say what he wanted speak specifically?” He asked before his wife could speak again.

Arya gave him a funny but replied, “It might have to do with what happened at the reception.” She smirked when he looked at her in confusion. “You don't remember punching Harrion Karstark do you?”

“Should I?”

“Well he said something that upset you quite badly. I don't know what it was, but you broke his jaw all the same and nearly started a brawl.”

Jon closed his eyes and palmed his face. The muscles and bones in his hand flared in protest. He pulled it back and noticed that it was slightly swollen and bruised.

“Fuck,” He groaned, that's one way to make an impression, he thought. And just when his stepmother gave him a bit of respect as well.

“You have your wife to thank for more violence not being done. Apparently a lot of people appreciated her wits and assets.”

She gave Nym a grin and got one in return. Arya retrieved a small clay vial from her pocket, “Maester Luwin thought you might need some salve for your hand.” She placed it on the table next to the food.

“Thank you,” Jon muttered. “And we'll be ready in half an hour.” He sighed, feeling his headache get worse. Did he really drink that much last night? He vaguely remembered being encouraged by someone to drink more that his two glass limit. And with honeyed mead as well, a drink that he wasn't used to.

“Make that an hour,” Nym suggested. “We still need to eat.” She reminded him.

“You heard your wife, Ser Light Weight,” Arya snorted again. “You have an hour to get ready, after that I'll unleash the wolves to get you. Your bath water should be here in twenty minutes.”

“Ser Light Weight?” He asked aloud when she departed.

“As I recall, you only had bout three large mugs of Honeyed Mead. The minimum, as far as I know, is three times that.”

“Well forgive me of not being too fond of drink,” He grumbled then eyed her suspiciously. “And how much did you drink?”

“Oh about two whole bottles of wine. I wasn't as drunk as you were but I was hardly sober.” She gave him a smile and threw her covers off. “We have about fifteen minutes to waste together, unless you want the servant to join us?”

Gods, was she being serious? He thought incredulously When all she did was spread her legs some more and raise an eyebrow, he got his answer.

“Fine,” He sighed and moved towards the bed. He should have said convinced her otherwise, but his head was killing him and maybe his wife would help clear it.

* * *

  
Oberyn was slightly suspicious of Ned Stark. Not because he thought him to be a bad man, but he was clearly hiding something. The notion seemed strange since Ned Stark was known for his honesty yet Oberyn couldn't shake the feeling he felt. He wouldn't make a move against the Overlord of the North just yet, he had no reason to do so, but he would bare watching.

Oberyn eyed the newlyweds then, a smirk on his lips. Jon did his best to stare ahead and a void his gaze. His daughter gave him a challenging look, daring him to make any japes or threats. He wouldn't threaten either of them, they were adults that were perfectly capable of making their own decisions.

That didn't mean he didn't find their quick fire wedding hilarious, since both of them weren't in any rush to do it before last night and Jon was most adamant about waiting to do it properly. He could imagine the conversations both would have to have with Lady Ashara and Arianne since both of them wanted to be at their wedding. He tried hard not to snicker then. Ellaria must have sensed what he was thinking because she swatted at him to behave though there was mischief in her eyes.

The sound of sparring caught his attention and his ears perked up. Ned Stark raised a hand to call for a halt when they approached a clearing. There were four people before them. Two sparred with a sword and spear respectively. Two shot arrows at the body of a dead deer. One was standing tall, exhibiting a perfect form for shooting and using a strange pair of silver gloves. The other sat lazily on a tree stump, never missing the target and they had what looked to be the bottom half of a suit of armor next to them.

The ones sparing were the ones that caught his attention the most mainly because of what they fought with. One fought with a staff made of what could have been Weirwood that rattled every time it was swung and had what looked like old runes carved into it. The person holding it wore a dark brown cloak with a hood that covered their face a little too well. Oberyn wondered how they could see their opponent unless they were playing it by sound.

The opponent in question fought with a single bladed sword that was thin and curved like the blades they used in Yi Ti. The handle seemed to be made out of some kind of bone and was carved into a series of skulls with the biggest being the pommel. The blade looked incredibly sharp but it didn't even make any cuts into the staff it struck at.

Its wielder was shirtless and covered in faded blue tattoos, the number eighteen being a prominent one at the base of his neck. He moved like the wind despite his large muscular frame.

The person sat on the tree stump paused in their firing, to glance over their shoulder. They spun around and fired a shot at the shirtless swordsman. Oberyn barely acknowledged the fact that the archer had stumps for legs because he watched the arrow sail through the air.

Before he could shout a warning, the arrow skidded across the face of the swordsman, leaving a horrible screeching sound and a ruined arrow.

Oberyn blinked and shook his head, trying to make sense of what he saw and heard. He glanced at his companions, and only Ned Stark seemed unperturbed.

“We have company, cousin,” The one who shot the arrow drawled, shifting in his place to grab the armor next to him. Oberyn got a good look at his legs – they were cut off at the knee and he placed both stumps into the armor like one would slip on a pair of trousers.

He tapped something on the side of it and the armor twitched for a bit before it settled. He held out his hand and the silver gloves Oberyn thought he saw earlier were in fact hands. The archer was pulled up to stand which he did shakily.

“The right knee is still stiff Uvyr,” He snarled out trying to lift the 'leg' in question.

“And I still grip things too tightly,” The other one said more calmly. “I nearly shattered the bow you gave me.”

“I will fix them later,” The cloaked figure, Uvyr, intoned solemnly. “Go now, my brother and I have business to attend to.”

The one with the false legs grumbled and the other nodded his head before they both started to walk away.

“My apologies, Lord Stark,” The swordsman called out, putting on a coat that was draped over a large wooden chest. “You've arrived sooner than expected.” His face was unblemished, save for a few tattoos and faded scars, Oberyn noted. He was handsome, and his accent reminded Oberyn of all the Northerners along the Wall that he had met but it was mixed in with some influence from the East.

His hair was long and dark but the underside of it was shaved to the scalp though you could barely see it unless he pulled his hair back. The most striking part of him was his eyes – blue like ice but they held a certain warmth to them. Oberyn idly wondered what those eyes would look like as Ellaria rode him or if he was on his knees in front of him before he dismissed the thought. He could think about that at a more appropriate time.

“Its fine Ser Yvar,” Ned Stark rumbled, managing a small smile as they all stepped forward. “I take it you have what I asked for?”

Ser Yvar looked over towards Oberyn and Ellaria before turning back and nodding, “I have everything you asked for.” He turned to the cloaked figure. “Brother, give them what they need.”

“And what is it we need, exactly?” Oberyn asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Neither of the two men in front of them responded, .

“Robert will be here in two days time,” Ned Stark told him quietly. “Tywin Lannister will wish to speak with me about rejoining the Seven Kingdoms – The North will do so, but not under Robert's banner.” He pulled out a scroll and handed it to Ser Yvar. “Your deed and title.”

Ser Yvar took it and held it reverently as Robb Stark stepped forward, “Father, how can we rejoin the Seven Kingdoms if we won't follow Robert?” Even Alys Karstark seemed confused at her future good fathers words.

“Because after your wedding, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms will be the one we swear fealty to, my son.”

Oberyn, intrigued more than anything, step forward as well, “And just who is this King you speak of?”

Lord Stark looked him square in the eye, “You will find out on the day of my sons wedding, Prince Oberyn. To assuage your protest,” He added when Oberyn opened his mouth to do just that. “These men will be giving you the tools you need for the task I know you will want to take on.”

“And what is that?” Oberyn eyed the long metal pole with a sharpened point that Uvyr held in his hand. Oberyn didn't see where he got it from but he noticed that Yvar had a large glass beaker filled with yellow liquid.

“The Mountain,” Oberyn jerked his eyes towards the Northern Overlord at that. “He's all yours. I just ask that you wait for my signal and that you don't take your time in killing him.”

Ellaria's hand slipped into his then, “He's not joking my love, I can feel it.” She whispered. He looked down at her and her eyes were blazing. Elia may not have been her sister, but they had been friends in their youth. She cared deeply for her and was saddened by what happened. “Take this offer, this may be your only chance.”

“This staff was built to last, and will be more than enough to kill the Mountain,” Uvyr told him when he didn't speak. “And you can keep it as a gift, from the North to Dorne.”

“This acid can melt through steel,” Yvar added. “I have smaller vials of the stuff, but if you'd rather use this to rid the beast of his armor, I doubt anyone will complain.”

Oberyn eyed them, then looked at those who had lived in Dorne. Ellaria urged him to take it. His good son had a blank face but his eyes said that he would follow Oberyn's lead. And his daughter looked calm and nodded her approval of this plan.

“I know that you are just trying to distract me Stark,” He said at last. “But in this case, I will let it slide. I will kill the Mountain, and when that is done, I would speak to this king you wish to follow and take his measure.”

“That will be up to him, but I doubt he will deny you an audience if you insist.”

Oberyn just nodded his head, a plan forming in his mind on how to deal with the Mountain as best as he could. There was a thought that nagged at the back of his thoughts but pushed it aside. He didn't want to entertain that idea until he saw this so called King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you all enjoyed that and I know it seems strange, but Ned telling all of them now makes sense. They are all bonded by blood and marriage. Alys is distant kin, and she hasn't married Robb yet, but she's not going to blab to anyone with the Lannisters and Baratheons. And telling them a few days before they arrive leaves it fresh in their minds as opposed to festering over time.
> 
> And don't be alarmed, nothing is missing. I just skipped over a wedding ceremony since I've written a few in my time and it gets stale after the second time doing it. I will most likely do the same for Robb and Alys but you will see the reception.
> 
> Oh and Yvar's name is pronounced EE-Var. His brother Uvyr is pronounced Ooh-Veer. Just in case any of you were wondering. Their back stories may be explored later on,
> 
> Again, thank you all for the well wishes, I hope you all have a great day and week.


	21. Understanding

Jaehaerys chewed his salmon slowly before he swallowed, “I must admit Lord Manderly, I was afraid that too much butter would ruin the fish but you've convinced me otherwise.”

Lord Wyman chortled, “A little butter never hurt anyone your grace.”

“But a lot could kill you by clogging the arteries,” Jaehaerys countered with a smile. “Though you seem to have found a way around it. You must share your secrets with me.”

“I have a strong heart,” He proclaimed, patting his flabby chest with one hand. He sighed, “But I no longer have strong arms and legs unfortunately. My sons Wylis and Wendel went in my stead with the required minimum of sixty men for a traveling lord to a wedding of this caliber.”

“They didn't take sixty men each, did they?”

“No, that may have seemed suspicious. I wish they hadn't taken my grandchildren, I miss them so.”

“I understand that one of your granddaughters has green hair?” Dany asked kindly, speaking for the first time in awhile. She ate lightly as she wasn't used to eating food with so much butter.

“My Wylla likes to dye her hair,” Lord Wyman's mustache twitched as he tried not to smile. “She reminds me of my mother who was fond of the same thing.”

Jay chewed his food and looked around, “You have a beautiful home Lord Manderly,” He said after he swallowed. “I thank you again for housing myself and my men for all this time.”

“You are my King,” The Lord of White Harbor shrugged. “And even if you weren't my King, you're half Stark and those with Stark blood will always be welcome in my lands.”

“That's something that I've wondered my lord,” Jay gave the other man a curious look. “How did my uncle convince so many of the Northern Lords to go through with this? I understand how some of them could, but not all.” Lord Howland Reed was the easiest to understand, as he was friends with his mother and uncle, same with Lord Umber but the rest? That was hard to understand.

“Its true that your uncle Eddard didn't have the easiest of times in convincing them, but he had earned enough respect for us to listen to him. My vows were never in question since my family owe everything to House Stark after what those fuckers in the Reach did to us. Pardon my language your grace.”

“We've heard and seen worse in the East, Lord Wyman,” Daenerys said idly.

Indeed, Jay thought with a small grimace. The Eastern peoples liked to look upon Westeros as a savage and unwashed backwater that lacked discipline and grace. They always conveniently forgot that the First Men, the Andals, and the small pocket of Old Valyria had all come from the East to join Westerosi nobility or to start it.

“Your uncle laid everything bare before all of us, telling us of how your father sought to make sure that the line of his house was secure with a second marriage to your mother. I admit, it came at a most volatile time and we were skeptical and angry at the cost of it all. Until he presented Petyr Baelish to us.”

Jay narrowed his eyes, “And what happened to him?” He never heard the full story about the Vale Lords demise. He hoped he suffered for what he did.

“He ran afoul of Lord Reeds poisons. He spoke the truth as he gagged and gasped for breath before he died in his own shit. It would have been kinder if Roose Bolton had survived the war and flayed him.”

“I thought flaying was outlawed in the North?”

“Only against other Northman, Baelish was of the Vale and when we were told, we were still in the Riverlands. Roose would have been able to get away with it.”

“The North is yours, your grace,” Lord Wyman said kindly. “Sure, the Banners of your uncle Benjen will test you but they know not to to harm you and your men. Your uncle may be surprised to know of you, though.” He added with a hint of distaste.

“I understand your disapproval, my Lord, but I asked your Overlord to tell only those who need to know. And before my uncle broke tradition and stopped the practice of Leader by Combat, the previous liege of the Wall and Gifts was on board with the plan anyway and convinced the others to follow it.”

“Indeed.”

Jay grimaced again at the lords tone. His uncle Benjen would no doubt be furious when he realized just how much was kept from him and he may even think that he was being undercut as leader of his people. It wasn't true of course, its just that his decision to challenge Lord Rayder to be leader of the Northernmost families and his subsequent termination of the practice when he won was a slight hiccup for his uncle Ned.

“The North is yours, your grace,” The Lord repeated. “And I wish you luck in convincing the other kingdoms to join you, or failing that, your conquest in them. House Manderly will provide whatever you need.”

“Thank you my Lord, your support means a lot to me.”

The Riverlands were his for now and he would secure that further by naming Jayne Blackfish as Lady Paramount of the Trident and dealing with any insurrection. He would have to find her a match, a man that was loyal to him and would be willing to take her name. He glanced down at his men as he continued thinking about his plans.

Lord Tytos Blackwood would have to be reached to convince his brother to bend or failing that he would have to fly there personally and speak with Ser Tristan on Pyke. By all accounts he was a reasonable man but he was cautious as well. The Westerlands would also need to be made stable and Tyrion Lannister's place would need to be secure before he moved on to other things.

He would have to speak truthfully with the Reach and Dorne respectively and plan accordingly when he got their responses. Those talks were not something he was looking forward too. The Stormlands could bend to him or he could speak with Shireen Baratheon as she was the only heir left with the Baratheon name, with her brothers having died. Like Dame Blackfish, she would need a husband who could take her name and who was loyal to him.

His brother Cregan was out of the question as he promised his siblings the right to choose their own path. It was easy to do since they had very little claim to the Throne being his half siblings from his mother. A simple sellsword wouldn't do and Lord Stannis would no doubt chafe at the thought.

As his eyes landed on three dark haired, blue eyed siblings, he smiled to himself. He may have found a solution after all.

* * *

  
Ned kept his face blank as best as he could as his former friend approached, “King Robert,” He drawled, refusing to do more than nod his head. It irritated the nobles amongst Robert's retinue that he refused to bend his knee, he could see it in their sneers and grimaces. It probably didn't help that those who stood behind him refused to do the same as well.

Robert, for his part, didn't look offended at all, in fact, it seemed like he was expecting such cool courtesy.

“Lord Stark.” Robert looked ready to say more but thought against it at the last moment.

“I'm afraid that there won't be much accommodation for your people, except maybe your Queen and your children. My Bannerman came here first and were therefore taken care of first.” Ned was surprised by this show of restraint from Robert. He would have tried to squeeze the life out of him by now with a great big hug.

“I understand, Lord Stark, I wasn't expecting anything less considering everyone here,” Robert looked around. His eyes landed on his wife. “You can take the two younger ones, Joffrey stays with me.”

That earned a displeased look from the Queen, “Joffrey -”

“Is staying with me,” Robert almost growled. “You coddle him enough as it is. At this rate no one will respect him if he isn't out and about with the men all so he could hide behind your skirts.”

Gods, did they need to argue so openly? Ned thought with a slight grimace. Thankfully, someone stepped in to handle the situation though it was someone who had no business being here in the first place.

“His Grace makes a valid point,” Tywin Lannister gave his daughter a look and she scowled but offer no further complaint. “And we were invited at the last minute, this is the best you could hope for.”

His daughter appeared to be cowed but when she turned her eyes towards Ned, he saw nothing but disdain and a bit of hatred as well.

“Give Queen Cersei and her children their salt and bread,” He said to his cousin Lyam. “And for a few of their guards as well.”

His cousin did as he was bade though Ned could see the reluctance he had in doing so. The Westerlands were easily the richest of the Southern Kingdoms and Lord Tywin ruled it well. But he and his family were hardly respected by anyone else, let alone by those in the North.

Ned doubted that the man gave a damn and probably saw everyone else as nothing more than a flock of sheep.

“If your people need help settling in, be sure to _ask_ for help from my people.” Ned made sure to put emphasis on the word ask. He knew how entitled some people could be and he would not tolerate any mistreatment of his people.

“We will, Lord Stark,” Robert nodded at him. “So, which one is my namesake?” He looked towards where Ned's children stood.

Ned sighed through his nose and began the task of introducing his family.

* * *

  
Davos mentally counted backwards from ten so he could keep calm.

“You should eat something, Onion Knight.” His enemy said in between drinking some wine. “Wouldn't want you to starve before you could see your Overlord.”

“Where is my family?” Davos demanded coldly. Bad enough that his home was now occupied by foreign invaders but he hadn't seen his family in days.

“In the next room, Ser. They haven't been harmed, unlike some, I don't harm my hostages.” Dark purple eyes hardened while the words were said softly. “I have no intention of doing harm to them or you, Ser.”

“You attacked my home and took it for yourself, forgive me if I have trouble believing the word of a Volantene raider,” Dark eyebrows were raised at this and Davos snorted. “I've traded with enough people from Volantis to remember the accent even if you do a commendable job of adopting a Westerosi one. Some of your vowels need work though.” He received no reply outside of another sip of wine.

His captor removed his outer coat and tossed it to the side. Davos got a good look at his arms. The were scarred mostly, from sword play no doubt. The one mark that made him pause was a dark green tattoo that ran from the base of his right elbow and up to his shoulder blade. Now, Davos had seen some beautiful tattoo work done in his time, he even picked up a few of his own.

But this was different and it could spell doom for his family and his fellow Stormlanders.

“You're a Maegyr,” Davos felt his breath hitch when those purple eyes looked back his way and narrowed. “That's the only way you could have a full Tiger tattoo and still be breathing.”

“I am indeed who you think I am, Ser Davos.” His captor replied. “Gargon Maegyr, former Baron of the Tiger's Claw, at your service.”

Davos had heard of this particular Maegyr before. Death Bringer they had called him when they spoke of his wrath. A Prince without a home was what they called him when they spoke of his falling out with his family and his subsequent banishment from Volantis.

“But I don't understand, what would an exiled noble come here and make trouble for?” Davos asked. “What have we done to you to deserve any of this?”

“You and your family have done me no wrong, most of Westeros hasn't done me any wrong in fact,” Gargon began his explanation. “But I was wronged and so was my family, when my sister was murdered in the Sack of Kings Landing.”

Davos frowned, “I'm sorry for your loss but I must confess, I didn't realize that Volantene nobility was in the Capitol all those years ago.”

“No you probably wouldn't because my sister was reduced to nothing more than a footnote. Tell me, did you hear of the young hand maiden that had her guts removed from her belly before she was thrown to the dogs while her killers watched and laughed.”

Oh Gods, Davos thought, horrified beyond belief. That was his sister?

“I see you have,” Gargon said quietly. “I was five years old when I saw my sister last. She promised to send for me so I could become a knight and even help spread the influence of our house if I married a noblewoman when I was of age.” His visage became dark. “Tywin Lannister and his dogs butchered everyone in that city and I am glad that my allies hold it now.”

Davos thought that to be a lie at first, but considering that there was no word of this attack prior to it happening, maybe the foreign noble in front of him spoke the truth.

“I wished that I could have helped them,” Gargon continued. “I even wish that I had gone North with the man I swore my sword too, but alas, my mission is here. I was promised compensation but more importantly, my sister will be avenged.” He narrowed his eyes. “You have my word that I won't harm you or your family, but do not take advantage of my kindness, Ser Davos, I may not respond too well.”

Whatever plans Davos may have thought of died in that moment. The look on the face of the younger man made him swallow heavily past the lump in his throat.

“I won't try anything, I swear it on the lives of my wife and children.” He vowed and Gargon nodded his head. “If you don't mind me asking, what was your sisters name? You said that she was made into a footnote, maybe you could start correcting that.” He added when the other man just stared at him.

Gargon said softly, “Talisa, my sisters name was Talisa.”

“A beautiful name.” Davos murmured.

“My sister was a beautiful person, all she every wanted was to help people. She came here to advise and provide medical assistance to Princess Elia.” He poured himself some more wine and poured a cup for Davos. “Have you any siblings, Ser?” He offered the cup to Davos who took it.

“I'm an only child I'm afraid and a lot of the people I considered siblings either betrayed me or were killed for their foolishness. Luckily my wife and I were able to give our eldest son the brothers that he wanted.”

“But you can understand why I have done what I have done? Would you not do the same if you were in my place for your family?”

“Of course,” Davos nodded. “But at the end of it all, what will you have left?”

“Justice and eventually, peace. That's all I want. If I receive more than that, I will not complain but I am not overly interested in anything else.”

“And the man you swore yourself to, what does he want?” At the very least Davos could get some information out of this even if he wasn't planning anything just yet.

Gargon smiled, “You'll have to wait and see,” He took a sip of his wine. “Tell me of some of your travels, good Ser. I would hear them.”  
Davos inwardly sighed but promised to wait for a better opportunity to get more information. For now, he settled for talking about one of his adventures with Salladhor Saan.


	22. Now it Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is embarrassing, I had meant to upload this sooner but I just couldn't find the time to do so. I will try to get the next one out sooner, for now, I hope you enjoy this one.

Lord Tywin sat down and began the meeting, “Lord Stark, I understand that you had some....misgivings all those years ago, but surely in the time since, you have reconsidered your position?” His tone suggested that he would make Ned do so if the answer displeased him.

“My realm has thrived without the others and I see no reason to upset any deals that we have now by going back to being allied with the others,” Ned almost laughed at the gall the older Lord showed by asserting his 'dominance' but he was hardly surprised. For all his cunning and supposed wisdom, Tywin Lannister was nothing more than a weak man who liked to overcompensate.

Rickard Stark had told his children that strong men hold a quiet strength to them and raise those up who bend their knees without fear of retribution. The weak man fears retribution from those that bend and makes the most noise to send a message, all while calling it a necessary action. For all his fathers faults, and there were a few, Ned held on to his lessons as best as he could.

“And I doubt that you can offer me any reason to do so.”

“Ned, there was a time when we were closer than brothers,” Robert said pleadingly.

“Yes there was, but times have changed,” Ned said in a cool tone. “You stopped being my brother long ago and you lost the right to call me that, King Robert.”

He sighed as he felt the tension in the room go up and he shook his head. “There's no monetary gain that you can give me since the North is allied with Braavos, one of the most richest countries in the world. My men and I do not need anymore land for the North is larger than the rest of the Kingdoms combined. What does that leave? Marriage?”

“It wouldn't be a bad idea, Lord Stark.” Tywin said coldly. “Your younger daughter is how old now, fifteen? She's more than old enough to get married. Your other sons could be promised.”

“All my children are already promised to the North,” Ned responded, sounding just as cold. “That's how it works with my family every time we marry outside of our borders.” Which was only once in semi recent memory as far as Ned could recall since one of his great grandmothers was a Blackwood and the other was a Royce.

“Traditions can be overlooked with the right incentive.”

“Which you haven't given me yet. I promised to listen to what you have to say but so far you have given me nothing to change my stance,” He spread his arms and shrugged. “If you have a proposition, I am all ears.” He tried his best to sound inviting though maybe he didn't quite pull it off since no one spoke.

And then there was a derisive snort, “If all you wanted to do was waste the Kings time, there were more effective ways to do it.”

Oh how he hated that voice. Ned's eyes snapped towards the Kingslayer and narrowed, “I thought bodyguards were supposed to remain silent until ordered otherwise, even the glorified ones?”

Jaime Lannister's face became rather pinched as he scowled. Ser Barristan Selmy frowned as well but he kept silent, as he was supposed to. Robert clenched his jaw but said nothing, eyes darting towards the composed Warden of the West.

Ah, you won't speak as long as he's here, fucking coward, Ned thought snappishly.

“But since you decided to speak, Ser Jaime, allow me to reply,” Ned leaned forward and continued in a quiet tone despite his thoughts.

“Your father and King Robert, and even Lord Arryn, wanted this meeting when I requested that they recognize the ownership of Queensgate going to my son Jon. I didn't actually need their recognition but there was a possibility that someone would complain and cause a fuss so I saved myself the headache and asked.”

“Hearing them out is the price I had to pay and here we are. When I say that I will listen and consider my options – I mean it. Your father and your king haven't convinced me of anything. And the last thing I need is someone like you questioning my intentions.” That last sentence did sit well with anyone, least of all the father of the arrogant prick who spoke.

“Need I remind you, Lord Stark, that it was my son who avenged those who were affected directly by the Mad King.” Yourself included, were the implied words and Ned felt the rage he had buried within all those years ago start to claw back to surface.

“And need I remind you, Lord Lannister, that your son was in the very room where my father and brother were killed. He hardly seemed like an avenger back then.” Tywin's face contorted at Ned's rebuke.

“I wasn't exactly alone,” Jaime Lannister retorted. “They were five hundred nobles there as well. And not one of them did a thing, all of them as silent as the crypt.”

“Then there are five hundred more people who have earned my disdain, and all the others who did ended up in their family crypt or in an unmarked grave.” Ned gave the younger man a piercing stare.

“In truth, Ser Jaime, its not what you did that bothers me so, its when you did it. You and your father cannot claim that you were being a bringer of justice when you killed the Mad King after the war was practically over. Sitting your spoiled arse on the Throne did nothing to shake the thought I had when I saw the carnage your father inflicted upon the population of Kings Landing.”

“Which is what?”

“That you Lannisters planned to takeover from the beginning,” This was a partial lie on Ned's part but they didn't need to know that.

“Your father stays out of the war when both sides asked for aide, then you kill your King and his Hand when the city is sacked. I won't lie and say that I believed your story about the Wildfire as it seemed convenient – part of me still doesn't.” Despite the fact that it was used in the Ironborn rebellion, Ned couldn't be sure that they didn't just make it that year instead of having it stock piled for so long.

“By what right do you get to question me and my actions?” Jaime Lannister snarled.

Ned raised an eyebrow, “You are a servant of the realms – all the great lords and ladies get to judge you and your actions.” He told the younger man. “As glorious as the Kingsguard can be, it has not been without its questionable members. You think that no one remembers what Ser Criston Cole did? We in the North condemn him for playing Kingmaker when he should have done his duty.”

“I did my duty -”

“When it was safe for you to do so.” Ned sighed through his nose and sat back in his chair heavily. “Lord Tywin, make me an offer that I cannot refuse and the North will once again join the other kingdoms. Until then, enjoy your stay here. Jory, see them out.”

Slowly, the other men left and when they were gone Ned waited a beat before slamming his hands on the desk in frustration.

“They are fucking insufferable,” He muttered, wondering why he agreed with his nephews plan to keep them alive and not just kill them here and now.

“Because he's my king,” He whispered and shook his head. “And he wants to see them for himself.” Ned would do as he was asked even if he thought it was smarter to just do away with them.

* * *

  
He knows, or suspects my hand in this, Elbert thought as Lord Yohn Royce gave his condolences on his recent losses. Elbert could see it in the eyes of the other Lord. Before all of this, Lord Royce could have been one of his biggest supporters, now that was called into question.

And it wasn't just the Royces, the Waynwoods looked at him with suspicion as well. Other lords began to take note but didn't comment or even give off an indication that they suspected him any wrong doing.

Elbert nodded his head at lord Yohn and began the ceremony, “Thank you all for your condolences and for your support during this...trying time.” He nodded at one of his men to open the Moon Door. As the door creaked open to reveal the hole in the floor, he grabbed one of the urns his men held. His wife and two of his boys grabbed the other three.

This one held the ashes of his uncle and he cleared his throat before speaking, “Lord Jon Arryn was a father to me,” He began. “My own father was ill when I was born and Lord Jon took me in and raised me as his own. I will never forget all the wisdom and knowledge he shared with me.”

He refrained from gritting his teeth as spoke about the other three, “Lysa Tully was no doubt scared of the thought of marrying my uncle for he was older than her, older than her father even. But she put aside that fear and did her duty by giving my uncle two strong sons. And they were robbed of their potential to do good in this world, just like their father.”

That was probably the most positive thing Elbert had ever said about them and he felt sick to his stomach. Gods above you deserved better Uncle Jon, He thought to himself.

“May the Seven who are One guide them through the skies and into the Seven heaves,” Elbert intoned as he knelt. He removed the lid of the urn and gently tipped it over, watching as the ashes fell through the Moon Door to be swept up by the wind.

After he finished with his uncles ashes, he took the ashes of Lady Lysa from his wife and had to fight the urge to just drop the damn thing. Just like with his uncle, he slowly poured the ashes out and handed the urn back to his wife when he was done.

“And may the Seven who are One punish the wicked for what they have done to my aunt and her children.” He added when he finished with Robin's urn.

“I thank you all again for your kindness, my Lords, my Ladies, and good Sers.” He addressed the room. “I hope I can count on that kindness as my family grieves for our losses. I will repay this kindness in anyway I can, I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

“You need not repay us, my Lord,” Lord Hunter spoke up from where he sat since his gout and age permitted him to do nothing else. “You are Overlord to us all, and we serve at your leisure.”

The other nobles echoed the sentiment, some more enthusiastically than others. Elbert took note of them all and formed some plans in his mind to potentially combat those who would go against him.

* * *

  
Jaehaerys looked towards the sky and watched as his beloved lead their dragons above them.

“I don't think I'll ever get used to that your grace.”

Jay smiled and looked over towards his friend, “You will in time, Gendry.” His face became like stone as he continued, “You do realize what I must do when we get there, yes?”

Gendry snorted and rolled his eyes, “You mean killing that shit head I share blood with? I have no qualms about that, your grace. He never acknowledged me when I was a child and if his wife ever found out that I was living in the Capitol, then she would have killed me.”

Jay knew that it was hard for his mother to be around Gendry and his siblings, mainly because it was like having constant reminders of the Usurper, but also because she knew that in another life, they might have been her children. She didn't hate them but it was hard to look at them sometimes and it must have been hard for her to acknowledge that her son was friends with them.

Its part of the reason why he brought them with him.

“You're sure about this?” Jay asked him. He needed to be sure that his friend spoke truthfully.

“That man means nothing to me and he stole your birthright. I always knew that he was going to die.”

Jay let the matter drop then, having been satisfied with the answer, and focused on the road in front of him. If they made good time they would arrive just as the wedding ceremony began tomorrow evening. Robert Baratheon was given more than enough time to prove that he was better than Aerys II but he had proven to be inept. Tomorrow night, the Dragon takes back what is theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Baelorfan My brother is fine and I am doing well for the most part, thank you for the concern and I'm glad you enjoyed the twist with Gargon. This chapter also serves as an update on Elbert as well and what he will have to deal with. I'll explain how he didn't die in the Rebellion or, close too it rather, in another chapter.
> 
> Also, if anyone is confused, each POV takes place in a different time, Ned's takes place the day the Robert arrives, Elbert's is a few days after his uncle died, but a few days before Robert arrived and Jay's is the night before the wedding. The show is sort of notorious for doing the same thing but they don't have time to explain that without the use of subtitles and such. (For example, Arya's story line in S6 of the show takes place over the course of a few days except for when she kills Lord Walder, that's about a few months after her story line ended.)


	23. Now it Ends I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part one of the assault against Robert and the Southerners. Sorry that I've been gone but I just didn't have anytime to write. I can't promise that the next part will be out soon but I will do my best to get it to you all.

Robb was nervous but he managed to keep as calm as possible. His newly made wife took his hand in hers and squeezed. He looked at her and smiled as best as he could but he could see the signs of his fathers plans go into effect. There was a tighter guard around his and their Bannerman were encouraging the Southerners to drink more and get drunk while they just sat and drank very little if at all.

Robb supposed that it was a good thing that they were outside of the castle walls and that his father hadn't given them all guest right otherwise this night would forever live in infamy – Seven Hells, it already would but at least their honor wouldn't be tainted too much.

“Bed them!” Somebody shouted suddenly, giving the signal for everyone of their men to get ready. There would be no bedding this night, there was no way that he could go through with it, but for the sake of appearances, they had to do so.

He caught Jon's eyes and gave him a nod and received one in return. Robb was grateful that his brother would be here to help their father and that their siblings were already away in their rooms under guard. His mother would still be here unfortunately but he knew that his father would never let anything happen to her.

The female servants and noble ladies began to lead him away and strip him. He saw the men do the same for Alys who looked on with a scowl on her face. The scowl softened when she saw him but neither said a word as they went into the castle proper.

* * *

  
Jon was going over the plan in his mind as he watched the people around him. More and more the southerners drank and the more useless they became. Unfortunately, none of the Kingsguard drank even if their King did and neither did Tywin Lannister.

The Old Lion's skill lay in battle planning but he was afforded training as was befitting of his station so Jon wasn't going to be expecting a slouch in combat. The biggest immediate problems would be Jaime Lannister and Barristan Selmy. The Kingslayer was in his prime and Barristan was battle tested. Even Ser Orys was hardly a slouch.

Jon glanced to the side where Oberyn practically vibrated in place with rage. Just a head of them was the man who murdered Princess Elia and those two children. The Mountain drank with his men and from what Jon had gathered, the giant of a man drank a slurry that included most potent liquors mixed with milk of the poppy. Normally such a concoction would kill a man, but it seemed to be a measured thing for him.

“Just a little longer my Prince,” Jon murmured. “Just a little longer.”

Oberyn said nothing, he just continued to glare. The Red Viper's eyes shifted though, when the men who gave him his javelin walked over towards Robert Baratheon carrying a large trunk. Oberyn's hands disappeared under the table and Jon could hear him undo the straps that held Oberyn's hidden weapon.

Nym undid her side while Jon undid the middle and slowly pulled the Javelin in his lap. They quietly scooted it over to Oberyn's side just as Ser Yvar and his men stopped in front of their targets table.

“We wish to give you a gift King Robert,” Uvyr intoned from under his hood. “For your return to the South.” Robert grunted something unintelligible but that seemed to be enough for Garunn and his brother Derrok to open the trunk and pour out its contents.

As their gift fell to the ground heavily and with a squelching sound, Jon gripped his sword Peacekeeper under the table. Moonlight was in its scabbard and he would draw that if it was necessary. He shared a nod with his wife to show that he was ready and received one in turn. He glanced at his father who had one of his guards and Ellaria usher Lady Catelyn towards the castle. He acknowledged Jon with an incline of his head when that was done and Jon did the same.

Robert Baratheon blinked when he saw the carcass of a Stag and a skinned lion. His wife turned red in the face at what she saw. The royal children looked confused for the most part except for Joffrey who stared at the dead animals with a gleam in his eyes.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lord Tywin demanded, getting to his feet and looking over towards Lord Stark who stared stoically in return. The Kingsguard shifted uneasily and the drunken southerners around around them tried to stand as well.

“You don't like your going away present? I thought a dead stag for the road and a fresh lion pelt would be worthy offerings for your gods when you see them for judgment.”

Oberyn let out a yell at Uvyr's words. He tipped over their table and spun his Javelin in his hand overhead. When he got it in the position he wanted he hurled it as hard as he could at the Mountain. The large man was too slow to react and the Javelin pierced him right through his chest. Oddly enough that didn't seem to kill him as he let out a roar of pain and anger and flipped his own table in response.

It descended into chaos after that, daggers and swords were drawn, mainly by those who were sober. Throats were opened from left to right. Jon for his part spun on his heel, knocking his chair away and cutting down a Lannister soldier who tried to sneak up on Oberyn. He cut down a few more as screams began to rent the air and blood stained the ground.

* * *

  
“Are you ready, my lord?” His second in command asked him.

“Just waiting on the signal,” Lord Gregor Forester rumbled, eying the Southron camp from their position. “Are the other clans ready?”

“They are my lord,” Artos looked at him nervously. “Does the young Dragon King actually have Dragons, my lord?”

“If Lord Eddard says he does, then he does.” Lord Forester cocked an ear when he heard a large flapping sound from up above. “That would be the beasties then. Prepare the men to charge.” He barked out to his second who rode down their line and informed the men to get ready.  
As soon as he saw a bit of fire in the night sky, he shouted, “Calvary, charge!”

“Yah!” He men shouted as they spurned their horses into action. His men did not wear the heavy plate like the southerners did, but they were just as good if not better at riding and their use of the Lance. Gregor Forester watched as his men rode down the Southron camp like dogs with the other men from the various Wolfswood Clans. Screams filled the air and tents were destroyed and burned by the Northern riders.

They crushed the enemy and forced them towards the middle of their camp, before they rode out and towards the edges of the clearing. Luckily, since they took them by surprise, nobody had fallen from their horses or were killed just yet.

Of course on the second charge, they did lose some men as horses were cut down but thankfully the Lannister men lost more.

“Wave the torch, bring them back.” He barked out to one of his other commanders and readied his bow. He looked towards the sky again as the fire drew closer. “Don't let the Southern shits leave the center of their encampment!” He hoped that the other clansmen were prepared because he wasn't going to wait.

“Nock!” He ordered and did the same. “Draw!” He aimed his bow. “Loose!” He let the arrow fly and so did his men. They repeated the process a few more times as their men escaped and luckily the other clans had done the same for their surviving men.

They did stop to watch in awe and terror as three large dragons came down from the sky and rained fire on the southern forces whose screams died out after a few moments.

“May the gods have mercy on us,” One of his men muttered, “And may these Targaryens be completely sane.”

Gregor didn't say it out loud but he echoed those sentiments. The last thing they all needed was an insane ruler with fire breathing monsters.

* * *

  
Several of King Robert's men ran to get aide as they were being overwhelmed by the Northern forces. They were all shot down by arrows as they attempted to to flee to the camp with the rest of their men. The leader, one Lancel Lannister, squire to the Stag King, received a chest full of sword when he ran straight into one in his panic.

Jaehaerys kicked him off of his sword and let the blood drip off of it, “Robert Baratheon is mine, his brother Ser Orys is to be taken alive, as are Tywin Lannister and his son. Cersei Lannister and her children are not to be harmed. Everyone else who is not our ally is yours to kill. If any of you disobey me in this, I will end you myself.”

His warriors respected him enough to listen to him and he already said this before, but blood raced during conflict and it addled the mind sometimes.

“Now follow me to victory!” They all cheered at his words and took off running after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're a guest and you want to leave a comment, sorry but I had to disable it since some genius thought it was okay to just post troll post and nothing constructive. I don't have a problem with criticism, but if your comment is basically 'Lol this is shit and you're shit for writing it' then I have no patience for you. Post something constructive that can help me grow as a writer and I'll do my best to listen to you in the future. If you don't, then you get ignored, plain and simple.


	24. Now it Ends II

Ned swung Ice to parry a blow and opened the belly of his attacker before moving on to the next. They all were breathing hard with exertion mainly due to all the drinking they did. It was easy pickings for him and he could see his men closing in on Robert.

“Ned!” He heard Benjen call to him from his side. “What the fuck is going on?!”

“I'm a little busy right now brother!” He yelled back, parrying a thrust and jumping to the side to swing at the back of his attackers head. He ignored the gore that followed with his blow and went on the defense to catch a strike that would have left him injured.

“What is the meaning of this, Stark,” Ser Orys snarled at him, pushing his blade against Ned's.

Ned gritted his teeth as he pushed back, “This is nothing personal against you Orys, but I made a promise to someone I care for deeply.”

“I piss on your promise!” Orys snarled then grunted when he was struck in the back of the head by a large fist and he fell to the ground.

“Fucking Southron shit,” The Greatjon growled, kicking the unconscious man. “You alright Ned?” He asked his friend.

“I'm fine,” Ned grunted. He raised his arm to swing when he felt a hand on his shoulder but he turned and saw that it was Benjen.

“Ned-” His brother angrily began.

“Baratheon!” A voiced howled from the edge of the tree line. “Time to meet your maker, Usurper!”

Ned watched as the man he assumed was his nephew step into the area wearing black armor that had red dragons swirled about on it when the firelight glinted against it. A long sword was in his hand and he had forgone the use of a helmet.

Foolish boy, Ned chided in his mind just as Robert seemed to have sobered up out of his drunkenness and confusion.

“Targaryen!” He roared, shoving one of his Kingsguard out of the way with surprising strength. He grabbed a fallen shield and club before charging at Jaehaerys.

“Jon, we can't let the Kingsguard join him.” Ned shrugged off Benjen and started running. Greatjon joined his pace with a few long strides before going past him and grabbing the white cloak of the Knight in front of him.

“Come here!” He shouted, yanking on the cloak and dragging the knight down. He shoves his great sword right through the mouth and eye hole of the helmet, killing him in an instant. He had garnered the attention of the others who saw their fallen comrade and went to engage the large man who grinned.

“Come on then, you cunts!”

* * *

  
Jaehaerys stated calmly, “He's mine.” He started to walk forward and then broke into a run, sword raised. He ducked under a blow that would have shattered his face, spinning on his heel and swinging Blackfyre at the back of the false king.

Robert roared in pain as he felt the sword cut into his flesh of his lower back but he ignored it and attacked again. He swung his shield out to distract the dragon spawn in front of him so he could follow up with a good clubbing. He could practically taste the dragon blood he would gain with such a thing.

His shield was cut in half and the sword of his enemy cut him in the side, before being dragged along his belly. He staggered back and gasped out, "You fucking cunt!”

“Hurts, doesn't it?” Jaehaerys snapped back. “The first cut was for my sister Rhaenys, that one was for her mother. If you give me that club I'll bash your head in to honor my brother Aegon.” The Usurper didn't need to know the truth of the matter, that he was only related to Rhaenys, but Jaehaerys would avenge the other two anyway.

His honor demanded it of him and he would obey.

Robert grunted and lunged again but he was weak from the blood loss so it was a pitiful attempt.

“My mother, Lyanna, sends her regards,” Jaehaerys said softly before he hefted his sword and swung with all his might. As the head rolled on the ground, Jay couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. The man was out of shape and practically out of his prime, the victory here felt hollow.

But with him dead, He thought looking around, and with the others about to be captured, my future reign is off to a good start. He picked up the head and jumped into the fray once more.

* * *

  
Jaime Lannister grinned when he sent the Quiet Wolf staggering back with a fresh cut to his cheek. Ned Stark was good he supposed, if a bit stiff in his movements but the Northmen tended to favor strength over speed so it was hardly surprising. It was going good so far and he rather enjoyed this sort of thing.

Reinforcements would arrive soon and they would drive off the Northmen so they could escape. Until then, he would have some fun with the 'Honorable' Ned Stark.

“Allow me my Lord,” A voice said softly, drawing his attention. He grinned again, this time with malice.

“Ser Ironhide.” He said derisively. How this man had gotten that name he did not care, he would die all the same.

“Kingslayer,” The other man murmured, stepping forward, holding his sword to the side and wearing a loose fitting shirt. The man was clearly a moron if he thought he could fight Jaime without some protection. I'm not one of these stumbling drunks you frozen prick, He thought to himself.

“If you surrender, I will let you live in good health.”

“And if I don't?” He replied with a snort. The absolute absurdity of the statement almost made him laugh but he refrained.

“You'll wish that you had.”

Jaime snorted again and lunged, using his speed to take the man by surprise.

Yvar turned, watching the sword go passed him, before he slammed a fist into the armored belly of his foe.

Jaime felt the air leave his lungs and he gasped for breath. He could feel his armor pressing uncomfortably against his stomach. How in Seven Hells did his armor cave in from a single punch?!

“Jaime!” He heard his sister shriek. “Help my brother you idiots! Help him!”

Yvar wrenched Jaime's sword hand upward before yanking his armor clean off. Jaime drew in a deep breath in response.

“You should have taken my offer.” Yvar whispered before crushing the Kingslayer's hand in his grip. Jaime screamed in agony, even as he was tossed aside. Yvar looked at the remaining Lannister men guarding the other nobles from the South. “Should we close ranks around them, my lord?” He asked Ned who nodded when he saw who Yvar was talking about.

“None of them are to be killed.” He ordered sternly.

“I know my lord,” Yvar nodded his head as he gestured for his men to help surround the rest of the royal family.

* * *

  
Oberyn snarled like a wild animal as he gutted another Lannister dog several times before he stopped, panting with exhaustion. He saw Gregor Clegane crawling away weakly, grunting with effort since he was missing a leg thanks to Jon. Nym had gotten one of his eyes with a crack of her whip and one of her daggers was buried in his shoulder.

“Oh no you don't,” He snarled hefting Javelin and stalking his prey. He kicked at the bloody stump that had once been a leg and he reveled in the weak roar he got in response. “I would have loved to take my time with you, but I will settle for this.”

He hopped onto the dying mans back and plunged his javelin straight through his head. For you sister, and for your children, He thought, pulling the Javelin out and slamming it back in just to make sure that The Mountain was dead.

He sighed through his nose harshly as the frustration and rage he had felt for this man started to bleed away. It was done now, but there was one more person left to deal with. He turned looking for Tywin Lannister and he spotted him surrounded alongside his family and guards, including the Mountain's little brother.

And then he saw something that made him blink and almost gasp in shock. He could have sworn that he saw Rhaegar Targaryen's ghost, with silver locks and red and black armor just like he wore on the Trident. Yet he interacted with the people, spoke to them and killed those who stood in his way. But how could this be?

He yanked his Javelin out of the dead body beneath him and started forward, intent on getting answers.

“Father, wait.” Nym reached out and grabbed his arm. She looked concerned.“What are you going to do?”

“What am I going to do? I am going to find out why a dead man is still alive and then I am going to gut him like a pig for his abandonment of my sister and their children.” If his blood wasn't hot then maybe he would recognize that he was being ridiculous but he didn't care all that much at the moment. He gripped his Javelin firmly and glared at his new target.

“I don't know who that is my Prince, but I doubt that his men would appreciate you killing him,” Jon said, ever quiet. His quiet tone was a stark contrast to the fact that his face was caked in blood. “And you have responsibilities back in Dorne. Don't forget about Ellaria, either, she wouldn't like it if you got yourself killed before you could greet another one of your children.” He added pointedly.

Once more Oberyn's seed proved strong as Ellaria would now bless him with another child. What did that make now, thirteen? Oberyn thought, calming down and counting the other women he impregnated whilst here in the North. At this rate his own personal fortune would take a hit but he knew of ways to get more money both legally and illegally. It mattered not to him, and he would see his children provided for.

“Let's just hear him out,” Nym suggested. “And maybe Lord Stark could arrange a meeting between us if we have more questions.”

Oberyn sighed softly and nodded his head. That could work.

* * *

  
Jaehaerys stood tall and proud as he tossed the Usurper's head towards who he presumed was Tywin Lannister. The man gave no outward reaction, most of them didn't but the two younger royals did flinch and whimper at the sight.

“You've lost,” He began, speaking in a calm and collected manner. “Surrender, and I shall be merciful.”

“Lies,” Cersei Lannister spit at him, clutching at her two youngest children and trying to reach for her third. “You'll kill us the second we surrender!”

“And I would be justified in doing so,” Jay kept his demeanor cool, bordering on cold as he continued. “The anger and fear that is gripping your heart is no doubt the same that Elia Martell, my stepmother felt the day your fathers dog did as he was told. “ Tywin Lannister clenched his jaw at this but said nothing in his defense.

“If I wanted to kill you I wouldn't have bothered wasting my breath, and no Lion or Hound would save you from me and my men.” He glared briefly at the large man who donned a snarling dog helm. “And to prove my point, Brother Uvyr, if you would be so kind.” He called to the hooded figure at his left. He hoped that the information Varys gave him was accurate otherwise he had just made a massive arse of himself.

Uvyr lifted a single hand and mimicked the action for choking someone and the strangest thing happened.

The Lannister men along with the Hound grasped at their throats, struggling to breath. Uvyr tightened his grip before twisting his hand. The telltale sounds of bones snapping could be heard before all the remaining Lannister Loyalists fell to the ground dead.

Jaehaerys gave no reaction while some of his men jumped back in fright, “I believe my point is proven,” He stated, taking in the pale form of Cersei Lannister, her crying younger children and her disturbed father. Her eldest son, stared at Jay with malice, “You have something to say, boy?” He asked mockingly and with an eyebrow raised.

The prince flushed angrily, “When the rest of the Seven Kingdoms find out about this all of your heads will be on pikes!” He took a step forward, shrugging off his mothers hand. “I am the rightful ruler of these lands and I will avenge my father you fucking -”

**SMACK!**

Jaehaerys backhanded the blonde haired shit after he stepped forward himself. Cersei shrieked as her son went flying back and landing into the mud.

“Take the woman and her children away, put Tywin Lannister and his son in irons.” He ordered, having grown tired of all this grandstanding. “When they're secure, burn the dead, ours and theirs, and help clean up what you can. After that...well, just try not to get into trouble.”

His men did as he bid. He turned to where his uncle stood and was about to introduce himself but he felt like he was being watched. He glanced at a tanned skinned man who seemed to be trying to kill him with his stare alone.

Ah, I see my fight has only just begun, He thought with a grimace as who he presumed was a Prince of Dorne made his way over, weapon in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness, I had to edit it down. And just a reminder, Elia only had one child with Rhaegar, and that was Rhaenys. The baby that they called Aegon was a fake since Elia could no longer conceive another child, which is where Lyanna came in.
> 
> I will explain what's the deal with Ser Yvar and his merry band of men, I promise. But for now, just enjoy these little tidbits.


	25. Aftermath I

“You're the son of the Wolf bitch,” Oberyn nearly skewered the son of his former good brother when he jabbed his weapon in _his_ direction. A sword deflected it away as another man stepped forward.

“Ser Cregan, leave it,” The living insult to his sister spoke. “Prince Oberyn is upset, and has not taken in his surroundings. If he did, then he would notice that he, his daughter, and his son by law are surrounded. If he did take them in, he would realize that his allies are mine as well.”

“I also think that should he harm me or even kill me, he'll have to fight his way out of here,” Oberyn grew angrier as the cunt before him continued to speak. He was entirely confident in the fact that nothing would happen to him. Not smug, just confident and it irritated Oberyn to no end.

“He's a skilled enough warrior that maybe he might survive. But then he would have to deal with them.”

Here he gestured to the side as three large and very dangerous creatures that were considered extinct crawled in their direction. They were large and snarled with each step they took. Oberyn felt his jaw start to go slack in awe before he clenched it and shifted his stance. Especially when he saw a human figure riding one of the Dragons. Gods, another one? He thought.

His javelin exploded into dust and was whisked away towards Uvyr with a slight gust of wind. The Javelin reformed into the outstretched hand of Uvyr.

“I gave this to you to help kill Gregor Clegane,” Uvyr reminded him as Oberyn glared. “I did not give it to you so you could kill my King.”

Oberyn jerked at that as if he had been struck, “King?!” He snarled out. “And what exactly is he King of?!” He demanded harshly.

“For now, the North and soon the Riverlands. After that I will have to work to gain the allegiance of the rest though your brother and I have a deal.” Rhaegar's bastard said calmly.

Oberyn growled, “I will hear no more of this.” He turned and walked away with a snarl on his lips. He shoved his way past those who had tried to block his way. Though, to his anger, they only moved when the bastard told them to.

“Let him go. Prince Oberyn is not a hostage here, he can leave if he wishes.”

“Get the horses ready, we leave in the next hour!” Oberyn shouted at his men who looked more than happy to oblige.

In his state of mind, he couldn't tell if they did so because they too felt that Rhaegar's bastard son was nothing more than an insult to Elia. Or they were happy to do so because they didn't want to upset him further. He hoped that it was the former.

He didn't turn back to call for his daughter or good son. He knew that due to their oaths, they were stuck here in the North and under the yoke of that bastard pretender. In Dorne, when they swore oaths, they kept them, even if it was to Mad Kings. For now, he would head home and demand that is brother give him control of their army to deal with this problem.

* * *

  
Ned watched as conflicting emotions spread across his eldest sons face.

“Ser Jon, it is a pleasure to meet you in person,” His nephew began, trying to gain the attention of his son.

“I wish I could say the same, Ser,” His son replied back, looking his cousin up and down. “So, you are the one my father swore himself too.” He did not relax his posture at all.

“That is the King you are talking too,” The knight who had defended his nephew snarled out. Ned felt the blood drain away from his face. This knight was a younger version of Arthur Dayne if his eyes weren't deceiving him and he had his sisters eyes. Gods Lya, what have you done?

“So you say,” Jon retorted with a snort. “Come my love, lets make sure your father doesn't change his mind and start killing anyone he sees.” He started to leave with his wife.

“Jon,” Ned started to speak but the rest of what he was going to say died in his throat as his son glared at him.

“You need not worry about my loyalty, Lord Stark. I swore my oaths to you, and I will keep them. If you follow him, then I will do the same. But right now, my good-father needs me more than your King.” Jon spat the word as if it were a slur, one aimed more at Ned than Jaehaerys. His son and his wife left without another word.

Ned looked at his nephew, “Your grace, I -” His shoulder was gripped roughly and then he felt his jaw explode with pain as he fell to the ground. His brother stood over him, hands restrained by the Greatjon who gave Ned a slight grin.

“Explain, _now_.” Benjen growled as Ned rubbed his jaw and sighed through his nose. It was going to be along night.

* * *

  
In the coming days, word had trickled down into the Riverlands by raven or by mouth. When Brynden received the raven from Ned, he rejoiced. Their plan had succeeded. He leant back in his chair, the one his father sat in when he was a lord and he laughed like a madman.

His daughter rushed in, no doubt having heard his laughter.

“Father?” She frowned. Brynden chuckled and wiped the tears of relief from his eyes. He couldn't speak so he just handed her the missive he got. She frowned as she read it and her expression cleared and she smiled her mothers smile.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” She asked him and he pushed down the ache in his heart and smiled softly.

“Your title as Lady of Riverrun is all but assured, my dear.” He replied and his daughter hugged him in glee, whooping with joy. Oh Mara, Brynden thought, hugging his daughter with fresh tears in his eyes, I wish you were here to see this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah I have no excuse for not updating this or Hersir but I am trying to get back on track. Hopefully you guys like it.


	26. Aftermath II

Jaehaerys marveled at the home of his mothers ancestors. It was just as beautiful as she described. He bit into the black pepper bacon on his plate, and followed it up with a bite of his bread. It had been the heartiest thing he had eaten in awhile but it would serve him well. He needed the energy to get through the day.

“Your grace,” He turned to see the castles Maester standing off to the side. “Lord Eddard is ready to speak with you when you are finished with your meal.”

Jay swallowed his food, “Thank you Maester, my council and I will be there shortly.” He gave his siblings, his beloved, and Gendry a look that they returned with nods. He turned back and noticed that the old man was still there.

“I am sure you have more pressing matters to attend too, Maester Luwin. You need not wait on us.”

“Lord Eddard has instructed me to escort you there when you are finished, your grace.” Luwin replied calmly.

“Then please sit down and join us,” Jay suggested and patted the empty space beside him.

“I thank you,” Luwin murmured. “I am not as young as I used to be.” He sat down with a slight groan and waved away the food he was offered. “I have already broken my fast but I thank you all the same.”

“So you would be the Maester directly after Walys, correct?” Jay asked, sipping at his watered down beer. He already knew the answer but it would be impolite to not try and have a conversation.

“I am indeed,” Luwin eyed him intently. “If you don't mind me saying your grace, had it not been for the color of your eyes, I would have never been able to deduce your Northern heritage.”

“I don't mind at all,” Jay smiled. “You wouldn't be the first one to tell me that.” And I doubt that you will be the last. He thought to himself, taking a sip of his beverage. He grabbed a cloth to wipe his hands and mouth.

“If the rest of you are ready...?” He trialed off and rolled his eyes when his siblings and his friend wolfed down the remains of their food and guzzled their beers. He shook his head at them, “Lead the way Maester, it would not do to keep my Lord Stark waiting, even if he is my uncle.”

* * *

  
Ned rubbed at his jaw, both in thought and relief. Damn his wild brother for teaching Benjen how to throw a punch. And damn Lyanna for making me keep her secret.

He sighed. The first thought was totally fair since Brandon never taught Benjen to use that technique on their enemies alone. The second one, not so much. While the secret he kept was like a sword that hung over his head and threatened to fall at any moment, his sister didn't hold a knife to his throat and threaten him herself.

No one forced him to keep her secret, but he remembered the bodies of those the Lannisters killed all those years ago. And that was threatening enough for Ned.

A knock at his door brought him out of his thoughts, “Enter.” He called out.

Luwin entered, “The King and his council are here as you requested, my lord.”

Ned waved him in as he stood. Robb and his wife Alys stood as well. Jaehaerys followed Luwin and he was followed by his council. The young men and women he met last night nearly gave Ned a heart attack once more, especially in the case of Roberts' bastard son. It was like looking into the past with that one.

“Greetings your Grace, Sers, and Ladies,” Ned said with a slight bow.

“Lord Stark,” His nephew smiled as his council merely bowed back. “Is Lady Stark not going to be joining us?” This was asked with a raised eyebrow and sweeping look around the room.

Ned fought a grimace, “My wife was rather shaken by the events of last night.” A lie but the truth in this matter was practically treason. It would not do to admit to that.

“My apologies,” His nephew looked genuinely sorry and it warmed Ned's heart.

“Thank you, your grace.” He gestured to the open chairs. “Please, sit.”

“You had questions about my siblings,” Jaehaerys prompted him after everyone took their seat, Luwin included.

“Yes,” Ned remarked slowly, eyes drifting to the two in question. “Would I be wrong in stating that you are the children of Ser Arthur Dayne?”

“No my lord you would not,” Ser Cregan replied. “And no, our parents are not married.” He added harshly, and with a hint of defiance that further proved in Ned's eyes that he was his mothers son.

“I figured that out when you introduced yourself Ser Cregan Wolfstar instead of The Wolfstar,” Ned said quietly and with a kind smile. “Your fathers oaths would make it difficult to marry your mother.” Though how either could be so blatant about it in front of the King was baffling.

“Well since there will be no Kingsguard any longer, he has no excuse in not making our mother an honest woman.”

Ned blinked, “You have no Kingsguard, your grace?” How odd and potentially damaging to his reign as King, Ned thought. Not to mention that it would be a good way to reward the loyalty of those who had fought beside them.

“My father promised to bring many changes to court when he became King – one of which was the disbanding of the Kingsguard. The rules in place do not allow for the protection of the entire royal family unless the King says so. How many times has the Royal family been set upon by rogues in the night while the King sleeps peacefully?”

“When one swears the oath, then cannot do more than obey.” Ned's words were test for his nephew. He personally knew that in times of great strife, oaths only went so far and doing something drastic was sometimes better than keeping your word.

Jaehaerys grimaced, “I may not like Tywin Lannister but his son Jaime did the right thing when he killed my Grandfather. It was not the honorable thing nor was it the lawful thing, but it was right.”

Princess Daenerys scowled slightly at his words before her face became a mask. Ned still caught the sadness in her eyes and he wondered at what she was thinking.

“Does this mean you will not punish him, your grace?” Robb spoke for the first time, looking curious.

“I plan to take his father to Dorne where he will die by the order of Prince Doran,” Jaehaerys spoke honestly. “Ser Jaime will be kept in my custody along with the younger Baratheon children. I will need them to keep the Westerlands on a leash.”

His tone made it clear that he wouldn't discuss the subject further so Ned changed it. Though, he did wonder as to why Cersei Lannister and her eldest son were not mentioned.

“I understand that you haven't yet earned your Denship, Lady Bethany?”

“No, my mother oversaw my training but I have not yet completed it.” She seemed displeased at the prospect of not having finished her training.

“I was hoping to leave her with Dame Blackfish when we head to the Riverlands.” Jaehaerys ignored his sisters surprised look.  
“It would help strengthen relations between us and the future Lady Paramount of the Trident. It is why I had hoped that your Lady wife would be here – I wanted to get her advice on how to best approach her cousin.”

Ned shared a look with his son and their Maester. Luwin looked slightly amused, and Ned knew that he would be of no help. Robb's face basically said that this was Ned's problem to deal with since he had no opinion on the matter.

“Dame Blackfish is very much like her father – stubborn, but loyal should you sway her to your side. With you recognizing her title, you more than likely have her support in whatever endeavor you have.”

“Within reason I hope,” Jaehaerys raised an eyebrow at him.

“Within reason,” Ned nodded in reply.

“And how is she when it comes to the prospect of marriage?”

“I have never brought up the subject to her in the few times that I have met her, your grace.” Ned ran his eyes over the two men on his nephews council. Cregan wrinkled his nose whilst Gendry smiled slightly.

“It is I that will be on offer, Lord Stark.” Ser Gendry told him. “I have no lands, no titles save for my Knighthood, and unlike my father, I do not have an untold amount of children running around out there. I do not have a name of my own so if she accepts me, our children will bear her name.”

A decent enough proposal, Ned thought, “You'll have to speak to her father first, but if you can convince her to marry you, she will convince him to accept it.” He turned to his nephew. “Will you be leaving some of your men behind to help them deal with any potential rebellion from the River Lords?”

The Freys came to his mind then, knowing that Old Walder Frey and most of his kin were too proud to follow a woman let alone a bastard woman.

“Yes I will and if need be, I'll lead my men in the fighting from dragon back,” Here he shared a loving smile with Princess Daenerys and Ned fought a smile of his own as he took in the joyful looks.

Jaehaerys lost his smile as he continued, “Although the option to fly to Dorne and hand Tywin Lannister over now is tempting but there is much to be done here.”

He gave Ned a serious look, “What I ask next is being asked as both your King and your nephew, Lord Stark.”

Ned raised his eyebrows, “And what is your question, my King?”

“I wished to be crowned in the Circle of Winter, with your blessing.” Ned leaned back in his chair and gave his nephew an incredulous stare.

“That ritual hasn't been performed since Torrhen Stark was King. I don't even know if it will work.” Ned replied. “And if you prove false, it will kill you.”

“I won't prove false,” Jaehaerys said curtly before any could ask questions. He stood from his chair and started to pace, “My father had many plans he wanted to put into action – one of which included raising House Stark from a Great House to a Princely House.”

He held up a hand to stall Ned's words, “I recognize the folly in such a thing, which is why I won't do it, but I understood where he was coming from. The Winter Lands are apart of this continent yet you are met with derision and suspicion simply because you have a different culture than the rest. Of course, I understand that you respond in kind.”

Here he shared a dry look with Ned.

“I am the product of both the North and the South. I have a responsibility to honor both – more so with my Northern Heritage than anything else.”

“What are you trying to say, my King?”

“The skies over Westeros will be filled with the roars of dragons once more. Maybe it is time for the wolves to howl alongside them.” He gestured to his siblings. “We were raised and blessed by both religions. I will marry a southern bride, likely give my heirs southern names, but they will know of the true gods of Westeros. They will know of the First Men and the Children of the Forrest. They will know of the magic in their blood. And they will know the North.”

He sighed, “Despite their union, my parents did not fulfill the Pact of Ice and Fire. For too long my fathers house has shamed and wronged the house of my mother because of that. I will be the one to correct this problem. The first step in doing so is proving to the North that I am one of them as well. I also want them to believe that I will protect and defend their rights just as much as I will defend the rights of others.”

“The Targaryen Dynasty was shattered and I have to rebuild it, and make it strong. I won't be doing it alone,” Jaehaerys looked around the room. “I will take your council and I will heed it when I can but my actions have to be my own.”

“And when the Southerners balk and complain about you being crowned in a Northern fashion?” Alys spoke up, eyes narrowed with suspicion, as if she expected Jaehaerys to crack under the pressure of the South.

“Not everyone is going to be pleased with me and if I tried to please them all, then no one would win,” Ned refrained from smiling at the answer that was given. “If they have a genuine grievance against me, I am more than willing to hear it and I will give my reasons for doing what I did. They need not accept but I will not tolerate any uprising or discontent so early in my reign – and I have three dragons and an army to help with that.”

The words were said with conviction and without a hint of arrogance, much like how he had dealt with Prince Oberyn. Ned was glad that his sister did not raise a walking shit stain for a son but this idea was dangerous.

“I would really appreciate your support in this, Uncle Ned,” He had only ever called him that in his letters – no doubt at the urging of his mother. But hearing it now, and looking into the eyes of his sisters son, one he had sworn himself too, made Ned sit a little straighter in his seat.

“I will give you my blessing – if you have a contingency in place for your potential death.” Ned narrowed his eyes, looking thoughtful. “You should name either of your bastard children as your heir or even your siblings. But do not name anyone from house Stark as your heir, no one but the North would accept that.”

We would have several headaches to deal with if you died, we would have more to deal with if you did that as well, Ned almost grimaced at the thought but he kept his face blank.

“Then here and now I put forth my bastard son Vhaegon as my heir for he is my eldest child,” Jaehaerys looked over to Luwin. “I will need your help in drafting an official document, Maester Luwin.”

“It would be my honor, your grace.”

“When it is done, I will give you my full blessing as your Warden of the North.”

“And as my High Lord of Ice and Snow.” Jaehaerys grinned in a way that reminded Ned of Lyanna and Brandon when they felt mischievous. “I know that the Usurper named you and Jon Arryn as Lords Paramount of your respective regions, but I can give you something just as good if not better. You did help me gain a foot hold in Westeros and have the most to lose should I fail.”

“I am not the only one who helped you.” Robert had named Ned Lord Paramount years ago in the hopes of enticing him back to his side. Ned ignored this even though the Citadel had kept a record of it when it was declared legal and binding.

“I know and the others who did will be rewarded, but you could have killed me all those years ago and you didn't. Consider this new title of yours one of the many thank you's that I have to give.” His stare made it clear that he would not take no for an answer – not on this subject at least.

“Very well,” Ned said in a resigned manner and helped draft the Will and Testament of his King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In canon, The North and The Eyrie did not receive titles of Lord Paramount. I have no idea why but in this story they did. However, I forgot to explain how they did and the reaction to that. Ned wasn't impressed with it but he is still called it. Now he has another title to add to his resume'.
> 
> His official address is now Eddard of the House Stark, Lord Paramount and Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell and High Lord of Ice and Snow.
> 
> I will further explain the reasoning for not having a Kingsguard in an upcoming moment between Jaime, Barristan, and Jaehaerys.


	27. Aftermath III

Jaehaerys walked towards the dungeons of Winterfell, intent on speaking to the Kingslayer and Ser Barristan the Bold. He needed answers from the latter and he needed to inform the other of his new status.

Others would have relished what he was about to do. His uncle Viserys would have no doubt tortured, raped and even burned Tywin Lannisters line to ash before turning towards the West to finish off the family and their cadet branches. Jaehaerys would do none of those things and he dreaded speaking to these men.

They were legends for fucks sake, and for a variety of reasons. Ser Barristan had served three Targaryen Kings and slayed Maelys the Monstrous, the last of the male Blackfyre's from the male line. He was not the last of that family but Ser Barristan had ended his potential reign before it began which gave the remaining Blackfyre's pause.

And Ser Jaime was more infamous than anything, but his name was known throughout the continent. Killed bandits alongside the Kingsguard, knighted at sixteen and inducted into the Order at the same age becoming the youngest to ever serve.

And he was the first one to ever kill the King he swore to serve.

He told the head guard to take him directly to the people he wanted to see and thankfully, they were close to one another. Jay grabbed a stool and placed it against the wall at the end of the hall.

Ser Barristan had watched him intently whilst Ser Jaime gave him a look of pure loathing before he shifted his gaze to the floor.

“Come to gloat?” Ser Jaime said bitterly and through clenched teeth.

“What would you do if I did?” Jaehaerys nodded at the mangled right hand of Ser Jaime. “You can't fight with your other hand as well as you could with that one, I doubt Ser Barristan is inclined to help you kill me.” He looked towards the other knight who remained silent. Ser Jaime scoffed and turned away in disgust.

“I am not here to gloat, good Sers, I am here to inform you of your new status in my kingdom. And I am here to ask questions, mostly for you, Ser Barristan.”

The older knight remained silent.

“You know, Ser Jaime, you should consider yourself lucky, you will be a hostage. Your father will not.” Jaime looked up at him. “You seemed surprised.”

“If you kill my father, my brother will revolt.” Jaime spat out. “The whole of the Westerlands will revolt.”

“And what can they do? Hide in Casterly Rock?” Jay leaned forward slightly. “What is to stop me from melting your home down to slag? I have three dragons with me and I know how to get more, your home would never survive.”

That was only partially true. He and Daenerys had four extra eggs between them but the sacrificial blood they needed would be difficult to get.

The slavers they used before to wake their current dragons were small fish so to speak – no one was really going to miss them but if they wished to wake more dragons they would need more bodies.

Someone was bound to notice then.

“Then you would be just like your grandfather.”

“Hardly. I don't burn people for no reason and I don't rape a member of my family whilst threatening the rest afterwards.” Jay smirked at the stunned expressions of both men.

“I was raised by Three Members of the Kingsguard, Sers, do you think that I wouldn't know about the monstrous things that my grandsire did before he was killed?”

“I am surprised that any of them spoke a word against Aerys – they never bothered to do so when he was alive.”

“Ser Arthur has hardly ever been one to mince words, Ser Jaime, you know this better than most. Or do you not remember the times he championed for the smallfolk of the Crownlands and gave my grandfather a conniption with his biting statements?”

Jay often wondered how his favorite teacher still kept his head if the stories he heard were true.

“As far as protesting against King Aerys – or even stopping him from getting his way – you beat them all there Ser Jaime. Take some pride in that fact, its what lions are known for after all. There is one thing though,” Jay leaned forward, face turning into a slight snarl.

“My father failed to protect my siblings and their mother – why did you do the same?”

Ser Jaime, who had maintained a resentful visage, jerked back as if he were struck and stared in dismay.

“Why did you do the same?” Jay repeated the question with a bit more force.

“I-I didn't think that my father would hurt them,” Ser Jaime stuttered out and Jay looked at him in disbelief.

“Are you stupid or playing at it?” Jay demanded of his grandfathers murderer. “Your father obliterated two families that were directly related to him in the Westerlands. If he was willing to kill his kin, no matter how close or how distant, what made you think that he was going to spare those that were not?”

“They were valuable hostages for him to use against Dorne,” Ser Jaime protested. “I thought that he would keep them alive.”

“But he didn't and whatever bravery you had in killing your king fled after that didn't it? Tell me Ser Barristan, would you have killed Tywin Lannister and his dogs in that moment if you had been in the Throne room?”

“Yes or I would have died trying,” The old man admits quietly.

“And what was your reason for not coming to the side of my grandmother and her children? They were still alive when this happened.”

“Because my continued existence was allowed if I served Robert Baratheon. I would have gladly died but I wanted to make sure that nothing untoward happened my family in the Stormlands so I remained.”

Jay thought that was a bit of a poor excuse but he didn't come here to fight, so he continued.

“Your father is going to die, Ser Jaime. He has escaped justice for too long and when I give him to Prince Doran, that will be put at an end. If you behave yourself I might let you say goodbye to him.”

“This will not stand, I will not allow it.” Ser Jaime hissed out.

“Yes it will, if you want the rest of your family to remain alive,” Jay gave a careless shrug. “Or you can act like a child and deal with the consequences of that. Maybe I'll give you your sisters head as a center piece for your new prison if you don't behave.”

He had planned to kill Cersei and her eldest son anyway irregardless of what Ser Jaime did, for they were too much trouble to keep alive.

Cersei was too much of a manipulative cunt, a fact he had learned from the short time he had spent interrogating her after the attack. Whores had more subtlety than she when it came to seduction and he had a good laugh at her attempts to try and persuade him to let her family free.

Her son....well, if Jay wasn't mistaken, he may as well have been King Aerys reborn or close too it. To be fair, Jay only heard stories but he could see the gleam and glints in Joffrey's eyes, he wasn't going to let that monster grow.

Not that Ser Jaime needed to know that.

“You touch her -”

“Oh, so it is her you only care about? I would have thought that the children you made with her might warrant some care from you but I guess I was wrong,” Jay smirked at the other mans discomfort.

“I only needed to take one look at them to realize that none of them are Robert Baratheon's get. It helps that I have some of Robert's bastards in my employ to further prove my theory.”

“You're insane,” Jaime scoffed while Ser Barristan looked on in realization and slight disgust. “Those children are not mine.”

“Then I suppose that if they are that worthless to you, I'll have my man remove their heads or better yet, I'll do it myself.”

Ser Jaime snarled and fought against his restraints, “Touch them and I will send you to whatever hell exists just like I did with your mad Grandfather!”

“Not if I take your hands,” Jay replied calmly. “In fact I will do that tonight after I am crowned. I'll make your family watch. The older ones at least, Myrcella and Tommen seem too kind to witness such a thing.”

He shrugged again, “This is all up to you, Ser Jaime. Behave and I will allow your sister and her children to live. If you do not, then after I am finished with you, I will punish them and it will be your fault, not mine.”

Jaime stopped struggling and through gritted teeth, he spoke, “I will behave.”

“I will behave...” Jay trailed off with a raised eyebrow.

“I will behave, your grace.” Ser Jaime said more politely and with a slight slump in his shoulders.

Jay nodded and turned to Ser Barristan, “And what of you, Ser Barristan? Will you return to the Stormlands or will you remain at court? Keep in mind that you will have no place in my personal ranks or councils, and will just be a court retainer but you will be welcomed all the same.”

Jay cared not one wit as to what this man did. His teachers spoke of him in equal parts respect and disdain and he had not really seen any reason to keep him just yet.

Ser Barristan kept his head held high, a good start, “If it would please your grace, I would like to return home to the Stormlands and visit my family for a time. After that, if your invitation is still open, I would like to visit the Capitol.”

“As long as you don't cause trouble,” Jay said warningly.

“I will not if I can help it.”

“Then I will tell those in my personal services to treat you with the respect befitting your status as a Knight and Court Retainer.” Jay stood then. “I'll ask Lord Eddard about getting you some fresh clothes and food for tonight. Enjoy the rest of your day good Sers.”

He took his leave before either could say a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be from Jon's POV and the one after that should be the coronation. Sorry for the wait.


	28. Aftermath IV

Jon kept his face perfectly blank though he felt like scowling.

“Ser Jon, Lady Nymeria, thank you for coming,” Jaehaerys smiled at them politely. “Please, sit. Our last guest should be here shortly.” He gestured to the two open chairs which they took somewhat reluctantly.

“Water? Wine?” He gestured to the refreshments. Jon shook his head and so did his wife. The King shrugged, “Suit yourselves.” He poured himself a generous helping of water. His two body guards didn't move when he offered them some save for a shake of their heads.

Jon studied them, taking in their stances and postures. They carried themselves like he did – they carried themselves like Daynes, something that confused him briefly until he looked into the eyes of the female guard and saw Dayne Blue eyes looking back at him.

“Draw yourself a picture, Ser,” She sneered at him. “It will no doubt last longer.”

Nym tensed at Jon's side in response. And he, for his part, wished that he still had one of his swords on him. If they needed to fight or flee then they were sitting ducks without their weapons.

“Bethany,” The King said warningly. “He is family.”

The now named Bethany snorted at that, “If you say so, your grace.”

“His father is our uncle and he is a Knight worth respecting,” Jon blinked at what was just said. He thought that maybe these two were distant relatives of his – but what the king just said made him reconsider.

“Knights defer to their King and failing that, their liege or father. He has spurned you both and for what?” She glared at Jon directly. “What is it that makes you defiant, good Ser? Pride? Petulance?”

“I-” Jon's response was cut off when the door slammed open and his father by law stalked in.

“Targaryen!” Oberyn drew a dagger and threw it at Jaehaerys who caught it by the handle. A guard burst in from behind Oberyn who smashed his face in with his elbow.

“Don't kill him, Cregan.” Jay called out calmly as The other Knight in the room grabbed a striking stick and engaged with Oberyn. Jon started to rise but stopped when he felt eyes on him.

“Don't move,” Bethany had a snarl on her face as she thrust her sword in Jon's direction. He raised his hands in surrender, once again cursing the fact that he didn't have any weapons on him. He considered rolling back and using his chair as a weapon but he felt his wife place her hand over his.

She shook her head slowly, not taking her eyes off of Bethany who scowled.

“If you so much as twitch,” She didn't finish but the threat was clear. Jon cast his eyes towards Oberyn who seemed to be letting his rage get the better of him as he couldn't quite get the better of Ser Cregan. Another guard came rushing in and tackled Oberyn, sending them both flying into the table with the drinks.

The table cracked under the weight of them both, splintering it. The drinks splashed against the stone floor, shattering the glass while the pitchers and tin cups clanged in near unison.

“Restrain him,” The King sounded bored. “Is this the way all Dornishmen respond to an invitation or is it just you?” He asked Oberyn after a moment.

“Fuck you, you son of a whore!”

“Don't,” Jay called out when his brother made to kick Oberyn. “Pick him up and hold him.”

They did so though it was clear that Cregan wanted to hurt the older man for his comment.

“Now why don't you explain to me what the actual fuck that was about?” Jay demanded.

“You know why!” Oberyn sneered.

“No I don't, all I did was ask you to join us and gave you a letter from his sister.”

“A forgery!”

“And how am I suppose to know that? Your brother said it was real so if you have a problem with it, take it up with him.” Jay shot back. “I honestly don't know what has you so worked up Prince Oberyn – the letter made no damn sense!”

Oberyn opened his mouth and closed it, muttering to himself.

“You truly don't know?”

“Know what?” Jay asked with exasperation.

“That the letter was coded,” Oberyn slumped his shoulders in defeat. “My sister wrote about what happened between her and Rhaegar. She wrote of their agreement.”

“She wrote all of that in that letter?” Jay raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Oberyn spat bitterly. He glared up at Jay. “It still doesn't change anything. Your father was a cunt who abandoned her and I will never kneel to you.”

“I don't need you to kneel for me – you do not rule Dorne,” Jay shot back and sighed. “I know not as to why my father did not save your sister and the children but let us not forget – your uncle served in the Kingsguard, why did he not do anything?”

Oberyn said nothing to that, for he had wondered that himself. His uncle Lewyn had plenty of chances to smuggle them out but he didn't.

“And I am not ignorant to the fact that Aegon would have been King – but do you think Dorne could survive without the rest of the Seven Kingdoms?” He still needed to protect the secret of Aegon's birth no matter if Prince Oberyn accepted it or not. Too many lives had been taken in protecting that secret and he would not dishonor them in such a fashion.

“We did so before, and we will continue to do as we always have. We do not need you or anyone else.”

“If you had never joined the rest of the continent, I believe that you could sustain yourselves. Now, I am not so sure,” Jay admitted. “The economy that was established when you did was universal. I don't think you can survive solely on the trade agreements you have now and remain strong.”

Oberyn bared his teeth, “You outsiders have always underestimated Dorne.”

“Indeed,” Jay said flatly. “But your brother is hardly an idiot if my information is correct. He will see the benefits of rejoining Dorne to the rest of the continent. And if he can convince me to do so, his daughter will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Oberyn threw his head back and laughed. The absurdity of it all! He thought.

“I wouldn't laugh, Prince Oberyn. Mace Tyrell has a daughter I could marry instead.” Jay paused in thought. “Neither option sits well with me but I am open to being convinced.”

“You think yourself better than my cousin,” Nym frowned at the underlying contempt in Jay's voice.

“No I do not – I am however, not a fool. Dorne has no reason to sit idly by as a dragon ascends the Iron Throne. And if reports are true, your cousin is hardly one to deny someone the pleasure of her body. I have no problem with that – I am hardly chaste myself. But what is to stop Princess Arianne from simply fucking another man and declaring the child as mine? And how do I have assurances that I will survive long enough for even that to happen?”

Good points, Nym thought reluctantly. She loved Arianne, truly she did, but her cousin was not the most subtle of people. She could easily do those things without a second thought, consequences be damned.

“And the fat flowers daughter?” Oberyn sniped. “I have heard that she is a prim and proper lady.”

“And I have heard that she is exactly like her grandmother, who is easily the most dangerous person in Westeros.” Jay snapped back. “Mostly because she's not an idiot. This prospect is hardly any better since the damn Tyrell's are nothing more than opportunists. Don't think that I don't know about Mace Tyrell's lack of action after Randyll Tarly handed him a victory against the Usurper.”

Jay took a calming breath, “I invited you here, Prince Oberyn, because I wanted to to try and mend whatever bridge I could with you. If you wish to hold my father's stupidity against me, then we have nothing to discuss.” He turned to Jon and Nym. “I invited you here to personally speak to about the actions of Lord Stark.”

“My father made his choices,” Jon said dismissively, bitterly. “It is in the past.”

Jay stared at him and scoffed, “I hope you never get put into the position he was placed in. You wouldn't last as long as he has if you are this dismissive about it.”

“I don't know what-”

“You're right, you don't know. And I didn't give you leave to speak.” Jay snapped at his cousin who flushed. “You don't know what it is like to look upon a child – your child in fact– and know that you will do anything and everything in your power to protect them. Even if you have to stay away from them. I have two children of my own – with a third on the way.”

Those who didn't know stared at him in surprise, “There is nothing that I wouldn't do to protect them. I pray that I can be as strong as your father and I pray that you will be too. Be grateful that you still have a father that loves you – not all of us are as fortunate.” He sneered and stomped out of the room.

His brother followed while his sister handed a pouch to the Stark guard that came into the room, “For the mess.” She gestured to where Oberyn had landed before starting to take her leave. “Attendance to the crowning ceremony was optional for all of you but now it is mandatory,” She turned back to Jon and sneered. “I'll see you there, cousin.”

She left after that.

* * *

  
Stannis was stoic as his cut food had been placed in front of him. The spoon he was given remained untouched.

“You'll need your strength , Lord Baratheon.” His captor told him as he speared a piece of pork and brought it to his mouth. “After all that fighting, you must be hungry. I know that I am.” He took the piece of pork into his mouth and chewed as he took another piece.

Stannis said nothing.

“Very well,” His captor sighed. “I just thought that the bad news I'm about to give you would be better taken on a full belly.”

Stannis turned his head towards the foreigner.

“Your brother, King Robert, is dead,” Stannis blinked. “And the true King has taken his crown.”

“And does this mummer have a name?” His voice was horse from all the yelling he had done in battle. He wouldn't mourn Robert but he knew that the death of a King could not be taken lightly.

“Eager to test your mettle against him are you?” Gargon laughed. “You'll meet him when you swear your fealty to him. Your family will suffer if you don't.”

Stannis pursed his lips. He would have protested at the thought of his family being in danger. After all, Storms End had never been taken by force but he wasn't there to lead his men so he couldn't be sure.

“We found the passage at the base of your castle,” Gargon informed him. “Ser Davos didn't betray you but it was hardly impossible to find. It helps that people who despised your brother still live in the Stormlands, otherwise our foothold wouldn't have been as secure as it has been.”

So that's how they did it, Stannis thought angrily. He knew that Robert had displeased many of the loyalists in Westeros, including those in their homeland but this was ridiculous. What could they gain from over throwing Robert besides chaos?

Robert was a terrible king, that was a fact but there was peace. I suppose that it was only inevitable that they would all start fighting again. Only the Dragons kept them in line from time to time, He thought with a frown before narrowing his eyes.

“Why do you frown so?” Gargon raised an eyebrow.

“No reason,” Stannis thought hard. Last he heard, the Mad King's surviving children lived on the other side of the world. Did they return? Did they kill Robert and claim his crown? “I just wonder who would be foolish enough to kill my brother.”

“Someone who thinks that Usurpers should be destroyed instead of rewarded,” Gargon replied bluntly.

“So Ned Stark is dead as well,” Stannis stated, watching his captors face.

Gargon rolled his eyes, “You're not as clever as you like to think, Lord Baratheon,” He shook his head. “You'll get your answers when you swear your fealty to your new king and not a second before. Now eat your food. Wouldn't want it to go to waste now would we?” He took another piece of pork and began to eat again.

Stannis ate after he realized that he truly wouldn't get any answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting sooner. I'll try and keep the updates closer together on the next one but I've got a lot of projects in play so no promises. Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter.


End file.
